Your words were never enough.  I poured the love I have for you from my fingers and you drank it as if it were a cheap wine with a screw top.  You shook your glass when it was emptied past your slurred lips, always asking for more.  Insatiable is too common a word to describe your appetite, each time I would finish you’d urge me to continue and I would always oblige.  I couldn’t say no to you, this being true in every contortion of the idea.
But your words were always held in reserve.  Released slowly, a single butterfly in the morning to flutter in the fresh dewy air.  Thinking now I’m not sure if this was tactical or instinct.  The few words, looks or glances taking over and leaving me wanting and waiting for the next.  Everything else invisible because I was at the edge of my seat for you.
Can you steal something that was given freely if the pretense in which it was given was false?  Did you steal my words, and my love, with your wanton eyes and lascivious nature?  And did you fall into love’s trap as well, only to realize it well before me?  Did you climb out and leave me behind?
I fed you and you fed me.  We shared each others fruits and let the juices grow sticky against our skin.  I never desired to be a shark until I saw the whites of your eyes.  The words came from me but they were yours.  They would not have existed without you.  You stole them from my heart and my body and now they’re left smelling of your perfume.

2 thoughts on “Stolen

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