I feel liked a carved out pumpkin at Halloween,
Today I discovered a snail trail slimy and slithering across the upstairs carpet.
This trial of breadcrumbs you lay out for me, Ingurgitated subsistence for an emaciated heart.
Did I trample on your words Or was the silence of your own volition?
I longed to touch you, Distant memory.
The paradox of your words, Keeps me up at night.