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FORGOTTEN WORDS The words from my heart are gone the moment after the stuttering valves utter them, passing through the dark humid warmth rising between us. They are like rain soaked into the earth, the clouds' speech bound to the dark memory of soil. What did I say, that you hold me with the grip of clay on water, pressed to the particles of your skin? What did I say, that you will not give me up to the pull of the dark gravity settling in around me? © 2004 by Richard W. Todd |