random

in translation words are lost
when they're spoken pictures painted
only fading into mist
foggy as the memory may be
how clearly one can find me
sitting where I sat where I sit
alone and slightly cracked
like a whore with legs spread open
waiting longing to take you in
verbage means so little
in the passage from your lips
why does one opt for trouble
sealing lies with a kiss
singing like a dove
in the heat of the day
with a chip gently shouldered
where every one is going to pay
the price.