With words...

Playing at sweetheart we were,
Denying the own illusion,
Making nests with words
Empty from emotions.

Fierce I am with words,
The ones that I embody
From fire and passion
Inside my own body...

I did not drink words
From death poets
Or even made blood
From emotions...
That are not mine.

Wild is my being of be,
And words come as sea,
Inside my veins of fire
And my womb of tree.

Trickster, yes, You!
That drink words
And play with them.
Be wild you foul!
And feel them,
In the trees,
Stones and bees.

Stop playing...
As you think you see
And be wild as a sea.