She cannot admit that she misses him. It would perforate her larynx and puncture his inner ear. She is frustrated with the weight of phrases that should be light and uttered often. She wishes there were other words with the shape of this gap and the shade of this affection. Her tongue is ossifying with the unsaid.
Archive for the 'out of joint' category
I tried, but I hate anagrams
But my fingers are tired and my mind is fatigued. Weary in body and spirit. The last snap of cold, the delayed spring, the transplant of everything in my life all at once. My feet don’t know where they are and I’m standing in a phone booth trying to give directions to myself to come pick me up.
I don’t even remember what day of the week it might be.
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You can’t trust my body language
I am never doing what I want these days. Always awake when I want to sleep. At home when I want to be far away. Standing still when I want to spin in circles to remember how to feel truly dizzy. Smiling with weary good humour when I want to shove papers in your mouth and staple them to your tongue. Quivering when I want to be composed. Flying apart when I want to be together. Whispering when I want to yell. Walking when I want to lie down. Slouching when I want a straight back. Gasping when I want the easy breathing of summer Saturdays. Blinking when I want to stare forever. Wolfing down what I want to savour. You can’t trust the flick of my tongue or the way jaw fits against my ear.
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