to one another,
as if never having heard
the voice of each other,
we can even deny having seen
the dying whispers
drown in our veins
missing  without being missed
has killed our songs.
An alien  to myself now,
most of my earthly words
used to be free 
free and alive.
For years
they germinated inside me
I used to own them-
their noises and their sounds
Then you came along
their lyrics and their rhymes
now they are dead
unheard of
now all of them have died
and I’m silenced.

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