{"sf1_id":543904,"sf2_id":null,"title":"Said Too Much","author":"crashheart","words":772,"posted_at":"2013-05-28T05:05:00.000Z","tags":["Poetry"],"url":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/543904-said-too-much","original_url":"https://sofurry.com/view/543904","image_url":"https://www.sofurryfiles.com/std/thumb?page=543904\u0026ext=.jpg","description":"#1 of Poetry\n\n2005\nI am remembering the words I've spoken already\nit's not just that they haunt me, just as much as their replies\nit's that I worry I don't have anymore to say","content":"I've been discovering a lot lately..  \nin words people say to each other, across inches and decades of miles  \nwe only have so many words of love inside  \nI'm inclined to think from birth  \nand we can let them forth, giddy and unchecked, and never get them back again  \nonce spent, that's it.  \nI feel like Ive said some things in time, that maybe were meant for someone else  \ndown the line  \nand I don't know what to do  \nI've said a lot already  \nmaybe too much  \n  \nand what I've heard has me thinking  \nhow we sometimes let things go  \nand regret it later  \nhow we sometimes wish, that our words would check out at the door  \nagree to a curfew  \nand take a cellphone with them  \nand that cute guy they're out with, how we wish we could trust him  \nto remain innocent  \nbut we cant  \n  \nsome say love is blind  \nI want it shot, deaf and dumb, tied to a chair and bleeding  \nbut I will put my knives away  \nleave them glinting in the darkness  \nI only want to pound something because I'm mad at myself  \nand powerless to change  \n  \nsome have written on love  \nthe whole world, one could guess  \na few scribblings to each at least  \nthe heart would write novels if it were able  \nfarbeit for me to add to the fray  \nwith fiery words of passion that will fade  \npass to ash and become dust in my mouth  \nI've heard many things, that love is blind  \nthat love is fair, that love is all I need  \nand I admit, I'm not the most experienced  \nnot enough to speak, no  \nbut I am enough to listen  \nthrough the mindless reckless voices of this earth  \nI listened to you\n\n\u0026nbsp;and I couldn't shake from me the words you said  \neach spoken quiet, from an honest heart  \none that was gold in its gentle spirit  \nand with them came a realization, of something lost upon this world  \nwe are born with these words inside us  \nwords of love and devotion to give away  \nand each one worth all the treasure of a thousand lifetimes  \nonce spoken...  \n  \nyou told me in the quiet that I was special, loved alone among many  \nthat I was yours, no distance to sever  \nand I counted myself lucky  \nlucky like the heavens themselves had been signed over in my name  \nand my wings strapped on  \nlucky like the sea between us had just parted  \nlike my prison bars just fell away, this day.  \nI knew that I was yours, and to be so felt so right  \nfit within everything I am and made me whole  \nI knew your words helped me  \nawoke in me my quiet answers to them  \nof thanks and belonging and joy and hope  \nand every future we could find before our feet  \nplans to walk them all  \ntogether, and knowing nothing more mattered  \napart from that  \nI knew my words trembled and fell shakily  \namongst the grass and flowers that circled  \nperpetual, at your feet  \nbut that was alright  \nyou were content with my frailties  \nand nothing more was all you wanted  \nyou and I were everything and enough\u0026nbsp;  \nand all we were was  \nwhat we were supposed to be  \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp;these words  \nburn brightly in the grate  \nfrom flame to ember beneath the irons  \nand I search my heart for what I have still  \nthese words  \nhave gone out like new wine  \npoured and thrown the cork away  \nunneeded, the best first  \nthey fell on you, a harvest field  \nfertile 'neath the midday sun  \nit shone  \nand I was summer in your eyes  \nbringing the change of seasons on my wing  \nbut you saw the calendar page turn before I did  \nnumbered each day  \nlike counting each heartbeat  \nand in the space between them  \nwere sudden miles and empty dust  \nand me, coughing, saying your name  \nover and over again in your wake  \nuntil it meant something to me  \nwilling you to speak again  \nto fill the silence with your soft voice  \nutter anything at all  \nexcept these words  \n  \nI've been realizing a lot lately..  \nin words people say to each other, across inches and decades of miles  \nwe only have so many words of love inside  \nfrom birth we set them forth, giddy and unchecked, and never get them back  \nspend them like bitter water after new wine  \nI feel like Ive said some things in time,  \nthat were not meant to be mine  \nthey were bound for someone else  \nand I don't know what to do  \nI've said a lot already  \nI've said too much to you  \n  \n\n"}