Why not.
Not why.

The words fall short
of their meaning
the one beyond the read

The lines weaken
and leave the reader
with a sense of boredom

The heartbeat
only in that cage
and fails to bleed
on pages

The papers
become satiated
with empty ink
lacking quality

The poet
loses him/her/them self/ves
in that limbo
between
head
and heart
running on a treadmill
trying to catch the fleeting muses

The poet dilutes
in reality
his/her/their greatest
fear
for that is
what they
try to escape
in every
poem

When they tell me
"we understand"
I take them seriously
because they will always
be under
the impression
that they know

I
for
got
for
mality
for
it fermented
itself
in
for
ming
years of
com
for
t

I severed
ties
and all I have
to give you
is a band aid
to stop the
bleeding
for I am robbed
of all my
FIRST AID KIT
of affection

I always went for the natural look
till it dread itself with dread

I put some conditioner
and lathered its sorrows away

Little did I know
that I was manipulated into thinking
my natural was natural...

Till I dried it off
and saw a lighter curlier ...natural

The tabs of my mind
miss your fingers
skimming through them
index first
middle next
till you find yourself
running till you
find
thoughts of
you