As the poet speaks another word,

the world is silent.

Thinking, what the words truly mean.

And they look towards each other in search for an answer,

but all they find is an empty silhouette, that isn't really there.

Such simple things, turned into beautiful messes.

As sour as a lemon.

As sweet as an Angel's kiss.

As raspy as a man's voice.

As hot as a Demon's hug.

Making up for the lack of flavour;

the world is silent.