Sometimes you talk about other people and never expect to hear any thing back.
Because you're fine just talking to yourself around other people.
And no one's listening, but that's fine, you're talking to yourself more than anything.
People just happen to be there within ear shot and you're talking out loud.
But sounds carry, bounce back.
Fill out the shape of the room.
If you close your eyes long enough you can,
Walk down a hallway and hear your breath paint the walls.
My voice came back from her mouth.
You're my kratom.
And I don't know what you know.
But this is a hefty responsibility.
I've never been someone else's drug before.
And Kratom! That's no slouch.
I mean, the child of coffee and poppy,
And I'm any shade of that to someone?
Because, she "can't stop smiling."
There's a glow in her chest.
There's a heat that won't fade.
I'm her chosen addiction.
The sounds have returned bounced,
To show me in a room luxuriant,
With a woman who puts velvet to shame,
And drapes her arms on my shoulders.
To be anything to her,
But, to be her Kratom?
There aren't words.