This doesn’t mean anything
The words aren’t for you to understand
Or smile. Or enjoy
It’s for me
I
Selfish words
Spilling
Because I cant fully spill my heart
Typing so it’s even less personal
Than the greats before me
In ***** sneakers next to Emily
Oh and those old guys sipping tea
Porcelain saucers, and lace
Clash with a hoodie and hidden liquor
Nothing to talk about
Because they are real
And I’m just a poser
I need to be forced into submission
To leave the lazy route
But the words typed flow
Trickle down like a spring in the spring
how repetitive
Eloquent?- I think not
Skills- lacking
But no one is criticizing or critiquing
Just me- alone in a cubby
Hey Emily, wanna come over?
I got an empty seat and a pen with your name
Or would you rather just type?