Learning to Speak Me

Words seduce me

I do not waste them

I do however squander silences

Despite my passion for creating of words a cassock to sway me gently at night, I do not write poetry. 

That is to say, I do not speak poetically. 

I do not ponder in meter or philosophize in line. 

I do not brood in rhythm or contemplate in rhyme—often.

When I think: you hurt me. I say, you hurt me. I mean, you hurt me.

I try to say what I mean in a way that I find pleasing—I realize you don’t always speak me.

I speak me—fluently

It is not necessary to tell me what my words say to you
I know this.

As surely as I know, if my tone is what offends you, you aren’t listening to the words


Popular posts from this blog

Call for True Stories (Paid) for Podcast

Dear Diary, a Week in Words

The Writing Life goes Live: A Discussion About Making a Living as a Writer