Our tragedy begins like this: silent. I talk to you with a fierce tongue and a quick wit but you remain mute about what matters.
Your throat's too narrow to swallow, so you leave the pain in your mouth, under your tongue, where it can't be spoken.
Maybe I am the sparrow and you are the song. Maybe I put too much pressure on myself. Or maybe, I'll fight the word of the Gods and challenge the writing in the stars for you.
I swear everything is slowing down, blurring together when I want to fast-forward to the moments where you smile, really smile, not one that's all teeth and no feeling.
Our tragedy ends like this: I save myself so I can save you. The tragedy is within the journey, but the final act is resolute in its kindness.
YOU ARE READING
you are not in wonderland ➵ poems
Poetryan assortment of shitty poetry i write gratuitously in my free time.
