my mouth fails me with each open and each flick of my tongue. my mouth fails me with each crack in my voice and each word that fails to successfully leave my lips. this is why i choose to use bleeding ink and callused fingers and bright screens and loud keyboards. this is why i choose to bite my lip as i stare at what i've written-at the words that i have strung together that i will hide between countless word documents and behind crumpled papers-but it's better than uttering incoherent words because my fingers cannot fail me the way my lips do.
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these are the thoughts that linger
YOU ARE READING
FLAWED MOTION (a writing collection)
Poetry"i suppose i love this life, in spite of my clenched fist." © xelena clarisse, 2015 highest: #104 in poetry
