i think it's that i don't recognize them.
i think the words are in there,
but look more like bits of shattered glass,
dirt thrown across the way,
piles of paper everywhere,
dried leaves and pressed flowers.
and the words are hiding too,
like children playing an innocent game,
some of them in my heart,
some of them in my marrow,
some of them gone further out into the field,
having forgotten that we were engaged in mutual affection.
