Take these little words

of living,

of love,

of lust,

of losing it all

and crumple them up

into little balls

like another messed up drawing

and

put them in a pile

and watch

as she sets them ablaze.

Watch as she

burns it all down

to the ground —

to ashes

that catch in the wind

and smell like

campfire memoirs.

Then,

stand there

in a murmuring stupor

as she gives you

more words to write

then you could ever imagine,

and less than a

lifetime to write them

as she says

“I love you.”

You never needed those

old words anyway.

They were just filler

until you learned how

to live,

to love,

to lust…