words
i want them to drip
sticky
like cherry cough syrup
slow and even
from the clear rim of an almost empty bottle
straight to the back of my
dry
worn out
throat
i want them to surge
non-stop
to pack a punch
to go
and go
and go
filling up the silence
that tells me
to run
fast
i want them to
appear
on his doorstep
does he have a doorstep?
wrapped in recycled paper
a loosely tied bow
strung together from plastic
clipped off the neck
of an endangered sea turtle
words for me
words for you
i want them to hurt
to burn
to take one look in the mirror
and shatter their own reflection
then kneel
gently
and brush the shards
piece by piece
edges mixing with letters
careful not to miss a piece
am i asking too much?
i don't want them
need them
these words
to say the shit
that swirled around like molten lava
and burned holes in my heart
when she was supposed to be reading
me bedtime stories
i don't want to
need them
to stitch up the wounds
that made me believe
there would always be a card missing
from my deck
i don't want to need them
because
the words don't always show up
nobody ever does
and i guess sometimes
i'm scared
that without them
i won't be enough
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