You add 
To the immense 
Vocabulary of love
A drop of deceit

It trickles down the page
Taking with it
In its darkening course
Passion, purpose, truth
An unclothed soul vulnerable
To the vast and holy secrets
Of passion, purpose, truth

Every permutation 
Of I love you
Runs 

One drop reduces
The immense vocabulary of love
To a sequence of letters on a page

Symbols become scribbles

Then dissolve in a puddle
That eats the page.

One drop
And it's all gone.

What's that like?

OK, dark mood here. A friend pointed out to me that this was an angry piece. "Angry?" I thought. It was just a question. Indeed, for me it is. I do wonder what it's like to tear heart and hope from another person so that she goes through life looking behind every word as if it were a boulder shielding a sniper. What's it like to kill language, that lifeline to the heart? To destroy trust? 

Emerging from this nightmare into the light of day brings this: here.