“writing poems on placemats.” By Sasha in the bath

Thursday, March 15, 2018
10:32pm
5 minutes
Garlic In My Ear
Sparrow

I don’t know if I want to do this anymore. Feels so fake. Feels so pushed. Feels so full of hurt and past and mistake and shit I don’t know. There aren’t words for the places we’ve been but all we’ve got all words all we are are words all this is is words. Words are empty so much of the time. Words are nothing. Words are my blood but I hate them today. I’m tired of setting the timer and pretending that I know how to do this. I’m tired of forgetting and then remembering and wondering if you’ll ever call. I still love you. I still love this. I still love the patience and the practise and the words.

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