Somebody stole my words

Somebody stole my words
and ran for it:
Thirteen miles away.

Somebody stole my words,
but I'm tracking them,
down the line of unwilling syllables
left behind for the sake of speed.

Somebody stole my words,
I'm confronting them:
Hand grasps the shoulder
of person in grey.

"…", I say.

With eloquent use of my words you reply:
"Me too, um, I mean, you, I mean, I really like you too, sort of-"
And I realize
just how much better I talk without them.