The Words

I tried to write a poem.

And the words fell out of my fingertips

and broke on the screen.

They made a noise like tin

and tasted like humidity.

I was going to lament things that don’t match up,

and bemoan my over-analytical tendencies.

I was going to wring my metaphorical hands

and curl up in a pile of beautiful words and cry.

But the words – no one told them

what to mean.

They were confused

because I am confused.

I’m trying to lure sadness out

but it is happy where it is.

I’m trying to force patience in

but it’s fed up and refuses to wait.

Mostly, the words were shaking because

I didn’t know where to put them.

I’m no expert and when I read my words,

they came back, “This is not how you feel.”

So I listened and made them talk about themselves.

But I must be so very selfish, because we ended up

talking about me.

                    -March 4