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Literature Text
you can tell by my quivering voice
and mismatched breaths
that i am not a storyteller.
i was never meant to write.
i stretch these words until they snap
because i long to make them more lovely
than they are supposed to be.
i cannot settle for less than infinity,
less than insanity.
i cannot settle for reality,
for the stupid stupid stupid echos in my bones,
for the parted lips that will never make a sound,
for me.
i cannot settle for honesty,
pure, clean, feather-light honesty,
so maybe i'm a liar and maybe that's a lie
but what more do i have
to hold close to me at night?
and mismatched breaths
that i am not a storyteller.
i was never meant to write.
i stretch these words until they snap
because i long to make them more lovely
than they are supposed to be.
i cannot settle for less than infinity,
less than insanity.
i cannot settle for reality,
for the stupid stupid stupid echos in my bones,
for the parted lips that will never make a sound,
for me.
i cannot settle for honesty,
pure, clean, feather-light honesty,
so maybe i'm a liar and maybe that's a lie
but what more do i have
to hold close to me at night?
something old i found in my files.
seems legit.
seems legit.
© 2012 - 2024 t-writes-poems
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