I recounted my day to you
and made sure to use a good word.
some savory spice over the dull topic at hand
about my professor's swollen lymph gland.

It was jubilant or maybe it was juggernaut
thrown into the hallways of dialogue
like some high school freshman
dawning a new outfit on her first day of school
intending to make a good first impression.

"you talk too poetic"
were the only words you had
and I recalculated all the ones I owned
the ones that came so naturally
those who have made me who I am
handcrafting me as much as I them
they who've persuaded
they who've debated
they who've won arguments
they who've lost arguments
they who were chained back
too shy to escape into the cold of a lovers criticism

and so when the branches fell that day
so perfectly onto the ground
mimicking the sound of a fallen soldier
I held back my metaphors and juggernaut of words
my ink stayed where I thought it belonged for a second
and that poem was lost.

you owe me a poem.