I am tired of explaining myself. I want to be quiet. Without feeling guilty for my silence.
I’m tired of making my words the marrow in my back bone. I’m tired of being strong.
I am swallowing all of the poems i want to write today.
Between my teeth, under my tongue, down my throat, any place they can make a home. There will be no poem today.
Stop Reading now.
The rest of this post is improvised in real life.
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