THESE THINGS THAT THEY CALL WORDS, WRITTEN BY VALERIE F. TOMPSON
There are these things -
these strange
miraculous
things
that these people like to call
words.
They're compilations of
letters
and
darkness
and
colour
all at once.
They are the
tappity tap
of my fingertips against the
black and white keys
and the
murmur
falling off of my tongue
and
burning into
obllivion.
They are the
breathing
of those who
live
and of
life itself
yet how strange is it
then
that we use them
when
we
die?
How strange is it
then
that we
talk about the
dead
with
these funny things
that they call
words?
[how can words fail you when they never really succeed you in the first place?]
YOU ARE READING
Rainy Days
NouvellesThey called him Rain. And with good reason, Val soon found out. For when he came into her life everything changed - the clouds all came out and they never went away again. And all that was left was a soggy mess. short story #99 // 29.03.2015 [curre...
