If you were a word, it’d be mine.

But words are sold at a price, where the heart could never tell it’s dateline.

And till then, I rather you be moments that I oath for a lifetime.

For the weight of words, are Love’s Paradigm.

My words bled the ink I lost from all the poetry I wrote about you.

But I’d still write again.

Even if it meant that I’ll bleed dry, to own a heart that was never mine.

For you owned my world of words, and time.