someone else's poem and it
knocks you offline for a while
all the thoughts you had wanted to say
a lot more precisely written

then
everything
was
beautiful
and
nothing
hurt

a conversation in my head

It’s just a coincidence.
                                                              You sound more afraid than sure.
What defines us as the sane one?
The fact that you have voice in your head or that fact that I exist?
                                                                                   The fact that you exist.
And I’m not just a figment of your imagination.
                                                                           Then that makes me insane.
*Precisely. This is a slippery *****, my friend.

sad teens with happy faces