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Savannah S Jan 18
before you even
open your mouth, have you ever
considered the weight
of one's

if one would
like to speak of a
one should wash their
mouth with tea,
and make sure
their speaking is
as clean it can
EmilyBatdorf Nov 2020
wine, in perfect measure,
is a bridge from tortured mind
to blank page.
Too little and the words
get stuck in my fingers.
Flowing too freely,
and I am heavy,
lost to the power of thought.
wine, my translator divine,
I am set free
to speak my truth and fall back,
Just Grace Nov 2020
They said

her tongue is too big
for a pretty little mouth like that

They wanted to cut it
as if it will give me more freedom
Change my mind
Liberate my sleep

Then they said
tape your mouth shut
Rip it from your lips then
remember that sting every morning when you wake
Build up that grainy residue
So that no amount of scrubbing away will change anything

That raspy, hazy din of voice–
It’s not mine anymore when you let it invade your comfort

Whose grating is it then

when I bend and it works
Your move
then it just doesn’t?

I’ll rest in my autumn warmth
wait for the drowning of winter
then after
I will warn you of Spring
Courtney O Oct 2020
The pen casts a spell
to each of our little pains
Charged with our ache,
distills into peaceful stillness,
a final and blissful end
(Words indeed do save)
Humans saving humans,
this is true heaven, truly being blessed
it is leaving our words unspoken
that has our throats feeling choked,
it is at this point in time
when setting your words free
may be the only means
to setting yourself
Oskar Erikson Sep 2020
he who reaches into
the core of a heart
and makes
its cavities

Oskar Erikson Sep 2020
abcdefghijklm(full of words)abcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz
opqrsabcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxy­ztuvwxyzabcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyzabc(too scrambled to say) abcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz
abcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxy(without swallowing)
za(your tongue)abcdefghijabcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz
abcdefghijklmnopqrstuv(in a misguided)abcdefghijklmn
                                     to decipher what this meant to you anyway.
Allesha Eman Aug 2020
Your words rival the rain that washes the dust of yesterday off the streets,
They pull flocks of birds towards your speech,
And like maps of the largest cities
I dwell on them for days hoping to uncover every corner,
Even the petals of blooming flowers
Fly away prematurely to follow the words that rest on your tongue,
Because when you speak you pierce the atmosphere
With paper planes folded by your wisdom.
Your words are pungent, like mosaics of foreign colour,
They rest upon the palette of a dreamy painter,
Wistful in colour, even when you haven’t spoken at all.
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