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Unlikely

Everyone will be hiding something

Concealing so much reality

Underneath boredom and structure

And such words… Such glorious words.

That make no sense until you repeat them

Your own sense hides like a coward

Silent and waiting.

It is seeking paraphrases from other conversations

And finishing sentences for you.

 

‘You’re a perfectly nice person’

But only underneath asymmetrical *******

And thinning hair

And uni-brows that you just won’t see.

 

‘You’re really intelligent’

But only if you could laugh a little while longer

And kiss a little bit nicer.

And if you sold out everyone who shares your blood,

Just to please me.

 

‘You’re an amazing friend’

Because you can’t **** someone

Who is just half as smart as you.

And you can't kiss someone,

whose lips are raw and ******

 

When did I become a mangled mess of these words?

If someone had taught me

If I had taught myself well

To get caffeine fixes on lonely tables

And spill myself in hot blooded fervour

So much so

That everyone will take two steps back

Afraid that the frail woman licking cream off her pancakes

Crying over sugar cubes

Will ask for their help.

Or worse… their handkerchief.

But I only taught myself to speak in adulterated words

Stewed in anger and sweat

Frozen so that I don’t make anyone anxious

Because the last thing I want

Is to make everyone else uncomfortable.

So I only talk about why I don’t want to wake up in the morning,

And how, every morning

Getting my feet on the ground

Is the hardest thing

I’ve ever had to do.

But I never finish that sentence.

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Written by
chinar-mehta
Indian
Published
Jun 19, 2013
Lines·Words
45·273
Permission

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