Of passion and words.

I swallowed your words,
After they melted before my eyes.
They grew inside me.

I am a plant now.
Of stunted growth-naked and dry.
You see, winter was never my season,
But nobody questions my nakedness.

Do you see the words branching out?
They are your words,
Words of Passion.
Your Promise.
Our affair.

I shall water the plant,
With your melted passion,
And let it grow in me.
Again.