End of Words

— Nick Butterfield

I save my vices and treasure a room to myself,
But no words come, as though my thoughts

have left the room.

Even gravity seems to have lost its hold.
So I’ll wait outside and smell for rain

While the stars hope for Spring and
New beginnings.

Because there has always been an end
To endings.

When there is nothing left to say,

I’ve been here before.

One thought on “End of Words

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