I wish I had more to say, but my
words always seem to betray my
thoughts. It always starts with a
kiss and ends with the door
closing in my face. Picking
withered flowers with an
unsteady hand into deeper sorrow
I descend. Making no sense of
my many dreams the voices in
my head collectively agree to no
longer sing.
David Blake
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/more-than-words-5/
