Your Words

Your words are like balloons.
Filled with hot air, and bloated,
Then shrinking until they resemble elderly testicles.
Shrivelled. A little spit, a lot of empty.

Your words are like shells.

Beautiful, irridescent on the surface

Yet inside, there’s nothing. No keepsakes.

Anything of note slithered away long ago.

Your words are like abandoned buildings.

Once full of something, bursting with life,

And feeling. And existence. Purpose. Meaning.

Now, just silence. Trip hazards. Dilapidated an...