When the words left me

A gasping gerund dying in the wind

I sucked in silence through a paper straw

Forcing shriveled lungs to move

As they denied her entry

When the words left me

The severed syllables lost all meaning

So I leapt to gather consonants scattered in the wind

I searched for broken vowels in forgotten coffee cups

Forming conjunctions that might reunite them

When words left me

I ripped open nailbeds to find crooked letters 

Scratched bleeding sores on a pocked, ashen face

Split strands of hair curling the sink drain

Searching for the syntax to bring me meaning

When words left me

I thumbed through the dog-eared pages

The stale scent of yellowed print 

Punctuating stories

That were not mine

When words left me

Past tense

I Shrouded my body in layers of linen 

As the darkness whispered alternative endings

And new definitions of departure 

These words left me

To form chapters I did not write

So, for now, I let the silence speak

For now, I sit upon idle hands

My tongue resting at the roof of my mouth

Waiting to welcome their return.