Words

It is unfortunate
I want words like lasers,
Sculpting exact replicas
For me and you.
Mirroring times and memories,
Sadness and exaltation.
Essence of then
Or what might be.
But it is not just improbable
But impossible too.
Words often deflect
Rather than reflect
And are not to be trusted.
The pictures seem fine
But they are,
Unavoidably,
Dishonest.
And so what you think
They recall
Is as dust.

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