What do you read, my lord?
Words, words, words.
Hamlet, Act 2, Scene 2
"That was when I learned that words are no good;
that words dont ever fit even what they are trying to say at"
Addie, As I Lay Dying, William Faulkner
this she said to him
a voice filled with passion and desire
do not write me poetry
a woman cannot breath words
a woman cannot dine on couplets
cannot press her lips against a metaphor
cannot wrap her legs around a stanza
cannot lie beside a rhyme to slip into peaceful sleep
paper pales against the lure of sheets shared
your pen is not the thing of my desire
and her words
could have been simply i love you