I lean into you
Just a little bit
To see if I can whisper
Without words,
Say it
Without a single utterance.

I do not think
That you got the message.

I do not blame you.

I can hardly crack the code, myself.

Language is so beautiful
So strong
The most powerful thing a person has
Is their words
The ones they speak
The way they say them
When they say them
The ones they keep hidden
Words have the power to change minds
They have the finesse to draw out emotions
They have the ability to flip the world upside down
Or right side up
Words are like candy
They can be sweet
Or sour
They are like the sky
Stormy
Or clear
Words can eat you up from the inside
Or destroy you from the outside
There is nothing more simple yet potent that exists
Words rule the world
So choose yours carefully

make me wish i could write
in the way i hardly understand
what my words mean at all

like those poets who manage to place
every word, every detail of it
in the most perfect cadence

speaking in a language of only those few
who feel or have been through the same thing could understand
with their deeper and wittier sense
at catching things in the right way

feelings successfully delivered across
like it's the first thing you'll read
in the envelope

and though i still lack the capability of doing so
i'd still stretch any words i have in me
to attempt creating something—
anything less than what the heart feels

you
make me try to utter things
that i’d rather leave unsaid
if it’s about
  anyone but

i don’t even know
what to say.
all i know
is that i want to say it.
i’ve got words inside—
i swear i do—
but i haven’t felt
enough to stir them
in a while.

i suppose there isn’t any
poetry lying within the cracks
of daily life
when every day
is the same.

“𝘐𝘵’𝘴 𝘢 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘥𝘢𝘺, 𝘪𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘪𝘵, 𝘔𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘢?”
“𝘖𝘣𝘫𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘭𝘺, 𝘺𝘦𝘴, 𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴.”

i don’t even know
what to say.
all i know
is that i want to say it.
i’ve got words inside—
i swear i do—
but i haven’t felt
enough to stir them
in a while.

i suppose there isn’t any
poetry lying within the cracks
of daily life
when every day
is the same.

“𝘐𝘵’𝘴 𝘢 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘥𝘢𝘺, 𝘪𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘪𝘵, 𝘔𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘢?”
“𝘖𝘣𝘫𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘭𝘺, 𝘺𝘦𝘴, 𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴.”

Remember the beauty
Of silence.

It’s not the words—
Not the melody.
It’s the spaces
In between.

Let it break
Every now and then.
When the chamber is empty
Don’t scream at the walls.

It
Will
Only
Echo
Back.

i have words inside of me
and i can’t say
any of them.
i don’t even know
what they are.
what happened to my voice?
it feels like it’s been a while
since i had something to say.
living underwater, living like a corpse.
i wake up and then go back to sleep
because “awake” is not “autopilot”.

why am i so tired?

Like a cup of coffee
a perfect brew
you are my morning cuppa 
I am addicted to you 

Or Darjeeling tea 
for which I pine 
aroma in gold 
you're always on my mind 

Like watermelon juice 
a sumptuous burst 
pink and sweet 
you quench my thirst

Or a bottle of wine 
red or white 
you tickle my senses 
in fermented delight 

Now of course 
there isn't much I can do

Dear poetry
I am addicted to you