Wither: Poetry

Don’t say the word now
Not after all this pain you’ve caused;
It makes you all the more cowardly
For not saying it when it counted

You know I’m leaving now,
Watching me depart is too much for you;
So now you’re the silver-tongued muse
With a tongue and a heart

I stood there naked
In front of you and you walked;
You said you didn’t want intimacy
And handed me a robe

You preferred to merge in the dark
Holding me with intimate arms;
Unseen, unacknowledged,
As if you loving me was a secret

So don’t say the words now
Let them wither inside you;
And they will make you deaf
to love as mine did.

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