Where do my words go when they die?
Leaving my lips do they rise,
Bubbling upward to far away places,
Before gently floating down,
In new and foreign spaces,
Settling softly on the ground
Where some unknown traveler
Might snag themselves on an unraveled
Half-completed thought or phrase,
Which I let slip from tired lips
When I was counting all the days
Left, until your ship
Comes sailing back to me.
Does this stranger suddenly
Find themselves distracted
From their extraneous life?
Are their thoughts blackened
Inexplicably by the strife
Between you and me
And the ocean in-between
Filled with fears and tears and lies?
Or is the opposite true?
Do my words immediately dive
From my mouth to their doom,
Sinking to the Earth in decay
Stagnant, unmoving, unable to sway
Anyone in anything?
Is there no one but me
That can feel the sweet sting
Of my love for you glean
The last bit of happiness from my day?
Ah, but either way,
Whether they float or fall away
It does not matter, for I
Commit them to this page each night
With the hope that one day you just might
See them, hear them, feel them despite
The fact that I have taken flight.
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