His words

were crumpled newspaper

worn out from being

said too many times,

told to too many people,

carelessly tossed into careful hands.

Withered, wearied, faded,

I thought if I cradled them in my careful hands,

I could nurse them back to life,

and believe in his lifeless words.

I put my ear against the words’ heart,

and I felt a faint heartbeat,

their small fingers gently detangling mine from theirs,

as if gently beckoning for me to let them go.