TheWolfishPen

Do not give in to infatuation never obsess Hold in that holding on Let go! Let go! Relinquish that grasp, instead Call to mind the growth born from utmost suffering, liken it to elms towering over the city (for their very presence after which the city itself was named) nourished by torrents of the skies lamentation Rise above disconnect again You are weather beaten elm tree sturdy and remote as ever and promise to root where you met with your anguish. Almost like those old sadistic tendencies (the ones you once drove hours to find) but no This saudade is fitting You’ve made this hiraeth a home.

That 5 letter word she owned what people used to call out to her in the hallways receiving her attention it still sits still in my mouth like a freshly cut and laundered scrap of paper, words I’ve tried to hide, stuffing them into my face to swallow. Papercuts on the roof of my mouth, too numerous to name, prove ruminating is a painful thing the clenching of my jaws to fasten down the regret wear and tear down my very speech. I am quiet because I fear that abundance of anger sitting comfortably as an ever-present wisdom tooth. I am quiet because once upon a time, the hapless words were opened. I’ve written and typed her name i