untitled poems

These words have not found owners. They have found no home. No pillows or candles or old mugs with old and new stains. Or stories clenched between palms. Or poems written only for new lovers. Or unspoken tongues in old romance literature. These words have no owners. No home to return to at the end of the night. No place to sit still in silence until the answers come. Until God sends a sign. Words without names or definitions. Like bodies on a boat, waiting to float. Like skin tearing for the second time. Belonging only to God. Clinging only to Him. Like lifeless limbs. Like wilting roses. Like passing pain. Belonging only to God. But still wandering.