Take my words in sections
Held—breast-pocket poetry—in times
When I keep my heart between my ears
My poetic little lines.
When you hold them in your pocket,
At least I know they’re heard
I dont want to die alone without you having heard my lifeless words
Steal my words
I work so hard
To make them sound like honey.
Sweeter till you listen
Then it sticks unpleasantly
Ask me to explain,
no one ever does
They are not simply stanzas
Not rhyming lines of empty thoughts
Hold my words like glass
I’ll take them back I swear
I don’t want to have to tell you
You broke my heart somewhere
