He only said three little words
after a lifetime of silence
awkward meetings with our eyes
he threw them at me like he always did
but my guard was down
I woke up to find he had put me out in an ashtray
then it was over, just like that
being a muse for the night
I could do better........I could do worse
I wondered what piece of me had been stolen and sold for profit
would I recognize my blood in the ink
in the voice, or in the silence
I can never hear it loud enough
I wonder if I'll ever hear it, read it
I wonder if I'll forget