A flood of words just yesterday,
But nothing now inside me.
As if like drink I consumed them
In haste, now I'm left with the
Bitter taste of afterthought.
When they leave I feel empty.
Starved and used. Vulnerable,
Naked and afraid. They are not
Me any longer. They are aloneness.
Like good people, they take bits
Of me I'll never have again.
I worry what they'll do without
Their host. I let them fly anyhow.