I was not magnificent
All my life
Words
A constant narrator in my head
I always thought the words
Gave me somewhere to go
When I needed to be
Anywhere but here
But when I was 30
I fell into a story
A girl who loved words
Because they helped her to stay
And so I stay
When maybe I should go
Or maybe the words should go
Because I am not sure
There is enough space
For all of them
And me
The problem is
I’ve picked up so many
They’ve replaced the flint and steel
That once sparked in my veins
Now I feel like it’s all I have
Words
Useless bits of phrases and lyrics
That no one can see
Or hear
You know those stock photos
Of a person holding out a handful of earth
Dirt spilling over the edges
Of smudged fingers
That’s me
Letters dripping down my thumb
I am a horror show
A final girl
Who falls to her knees
Opens her mouth
And lets words ooze from between her teeth
With nothing left inside
I offer you Austen
And love you, most ardently
Or maybe some Fitzgerald?
I can be your Daisy
If you want
I have Eliot on my shoulder
And recite
Let us go then, you and I
Every morning
On my way out the door
I imagine we step out into the street together
In some other time
In some other place
There’s a river
And street lamps in our eyes
And no one thinks twice
When we stop and sway
To the song that always plays in my head
Whenever you speak
I can fill your silences
With lines from Frost
I can paint Green
All over your walls
If it helped you understand
I spread the words around me
I will pick through
Until my fingers bleed
If I have to
If I can just find
The right turn of phrase
To give you what you need
I will comb through these stories
Til the end of my days
But until then
I will sit in the mess I have made
Cocoon myself in the phrasings of others
And wonder when
I will ever meet
Someone who speaks
The same language as me
