eat my words

Hyacinth garden

my tongue begins to fail

flaws in my poetry surround

my words wrap around

when I wrote that poem

it was not to judge her heart

I just write

in the mourning of her sonnet

longings in my heart cannot reach her

words crawl into my bed

words swirl into my head

words better left unsaid

when I am half asleep and suppressed

so poignantly, without caress

there they stretch their impulsive kiss

it feels like quiet distress

in a corner of my


wounds unhealed where I wish they never were

compressed and embedded

words that fell on deaf ears, well-nigh in silence

not about what was heard but more of words unsaid

affected by every word was sound

I have that verbal and written

taste of words


elicited and linked bizarrely

when I suffer from this condition

it is okay

I know I can

I can eat my words

hope rises with the dawn

glowing within the golden sun

I think it's good,

this will be a good day

it's okay, it will be okay.

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