Word: Tadpoles

There was a time when your word meant everything to me—

Everything.

I was clinging on to the edge of a cliff;

your ands and buts providing ridges to grasp

only to crumble and fall at the slightest touch.

A murmur, a spell cascades like a waterfall

the basin is dry yet full of frogs

with no where to lay their young except in the pool

of your mouth.

Bead by bead you spit them out

like watermelon seeds on a hot day.

Words, no, sentences hatch with tiny tails of lies

no one, nobody, nothing.