I breathe the words
More deeply than I breathe air
They come to me, making flowers grow in my lungs
They are beautiful, but how should I breathe with them there
They rush in suddenly like clouds in the summer
Bringing a storm with them
I love the rain…
But I am afraid of the thunder.
I want to speak
But, but every time
I open my mouth
My lungs burn– as though on fire
I want to speak,
But they are my words
My only comfort
My only pain
I can’t sing
But it is music–
The words I write


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