I’m running out of words for you

in case you haven’t noticed.


They don’t come quickly anymore and

I am suffocating beneath the silence.


Every syllable reposed behind my lips

seems clumsy and ill-fitting,


compared to all the hues and intricacies

that swell beneath my skin.


I’ve gotten older and become aware

that we are all lonely and desperate


and there

is something broken inside of me.


I’ve got this ocean in my hand

and there’s no cure for that.


Word, no words, all words

in hazardous commotion


longing to be released from

their prison behind clenched teeth and fists.


Poets never sing as beautifully

as the caged bird calling for freedom.


We weave the craftiest of lies and pray

that you’ll read between the lines


and love us just enough to release

us from our burden.

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