The otherness of my words

“Your words, not mine”-

you pushed the conversation towards me

holding the empty silence at your end.

“My Words!”

Ah, I see,

the ownership, the title deed — mine.

These words-

mine?

truly mine?

mine alone?

Each syllable,

all the intonations

every meaning -

ascribed or presumed, all mine?

My words

because,

I rolled them on my tongue

tasted the hurt in them

gulped down the expectations they carried

kissed them good luck,

as they left my lips…

beacuse,

they stood forlorn

suspended in the otherness

engulfing the small universe, mine.

My words

because,

they could not breathe

in the air heavy and pungent

with the acrid odor of breathing ghosts.

My words, mine,

only mine

because,

I spoke them to dead ears and deaf eyes.