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I'm trying to write how I speak but looking to the sky has no sound. Half eaten breath sliding across my tongue like a piece of candy. After years of sewing sentences together, trying to accelerate my youth you have offered me a new language, with hope that there is an end at the end, and it will be glorious. If I ever believe these things you proclaim I will put the pen down for good; Nothing more to say, to discover, to spell. But I do, I do want to write. Each day that passes, picked, ripe, then rotten, I conjure up the courage to just kneel and listen to the words. I shake my memory box and you survive, you rise to the top each time. After this thought, there you are, and after this thought... A particular one, that has caused much disruption is that if I ever become someone else, with pain that isn't mine, with a different tongue, with different breath you will still remain the greatest moment of my life. You hold the last word I will every say, and somewhere along this life I will receive it, whispered into a pillow and placed under my head and as luck would have it, I am unattractively curious about what it is... Until then, I try to write how I speak
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Jul 10, 2021
Jul 10, 2021 at 7:07 PM UTC
One Way, Another Way
I'm trying to write how I speak but looking to the sky has no sound. Half eaten breath sliding across my tongue like a piece of candy. After years of sewing sentences together, trying to accelerate my youth you have offered me a new language, with hope that there is an end at the end, and it will be glorious. If I ever believe these things you proclaim I will put the pen down for good; Nothing more to say, to discover, to spell. But I do, I do want to write. Each day that passes, picked, ripe, then rotten, I conjure up the courage to just kneel and listen to the words. I shake my memory box and you survive, you rise to the top each time. After this thought, there you are, and after this thought... A particular one, that has caused much disruption is that if I ever become someone else, with pain that isn't mine, with a different tongue, with different breath you will still remain the greatest moment of my life. You hold the last word I will every say, and somewhere along this life I will receive it, whispered into a pillow and placed under my head and as luck would have it, I am unattractively curious about what it is... Until then, I try to write how I speak
jalisaallycia
Written by
25/F/New York
Jul 10, 2021
Jul 10, 2021 at 7:07 PM UTC
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