Stop Talking.

​

I caught your words as they tumbled from your mouth.

My hands cupping each syllable as they warmed to their touch

I brought them to my lips and tasted their almond meaning.

Closing my eyes, as I breathe their heavy scent.

These words are all I have now and may be all I need.

Except? What will I do when the words you have spoken

become as thin as rice paper

melting in brittle defiance of my want to keep them whole.

What if your words begin to burn me, branding me with their flaming existence

Cooling only when I whisper;

Stop. Talking.