the crooked and
mishandled alleyways
of words to whisper
have always riddled
the backstreets of my mind...

i mapped them,
longer than enough
to see the ins and outs
i've known them,
more than enough...
like the palm of my hand
or the skin on my face.

it has always been
a palimpsest
of the maze i used to
be sealing myself in—
   or perhaps seeping myself out.

there were promises,
there were poems,
and of course,
there was you.

and every single word,
or every single way,
i have always been
tongue tied and
waiting and just so
so long overdue—

stuck in the prison
of a misfortunate fate...
knowing the means
and never escaping
somehow still lost

   afraid of ever stretching ways.

'hey, long time no see—'

'happy birthday! want to talk—'

'happy new year hope we still get together!'

    everything just comes out in clicks...

    'backspace'.