Written: 5/4/18; Posted 8/16/18

Words have with been me

since I was born. I have

felt the feeling of them in my

lungs each morning as I greet the

world. I have felt their tears,

their hurt, their pain each

moment of grief. Each time someone

has spoken without thinking,

I have felt their power,

their Phoenix-like umph as they

resurface suddenly and gracefully

and with persistence like no other

before falling yet again into the depths

of a story, poem, speech, or

someone retracting what they just said

in hopes that no one heard.

But the thing about words is that they are

always heard by someone, somewhere,

and it’s okay if that someone is only you.

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