How well will I perform
Does it depend on the right word
Gushing
Aching to
Exhibit perfection
So that you will see me
In that vision

How will you respond
To the reflex of being flushed
That I constantly misspell
Was always told
I wrote well
Yet to you
I cannot concoct a clever thought

This is how I tell
I drafted it then
Rewrite
Again and again
Until at night
The imaginary recital
Would flood my head

I love you that way
That the words I send
Are never close to decent
For it is my heart you confuse
It is so loud
To silence
I am reduced.