Now my footsteps fall so lightly.
The stir of teenaged movement
Grew quiet.
My voice then, unbreakable
And now it’s but a whisper.
What a relief to bite my own tongue.
Complications come with age,
Yet the gravity of a miserable life
No longer chokes me underwater
For I feel younger than I did at sixteen.
The sting of love lost and dull ache of death
Salted everything.



This entry was published on June 10, 2014 at 2:57 am. It’s filed under Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post.

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