K

I write the 11 pages
and you write the one.

I live in countless stages
when you breathe in and out
all the same
mundane
yet.

something lights me up inside
just talking to you.
its the same conversation
the laced satire
and brilliant unconventional
human mind
unravelling, thought after thought.
to produce a glorious effect
word after word
until you get tired
and i decide to leave you instead.

it feels like an incomplete word,
like a half-knitted sweater
or a half-sown seed.
Doesn’t quite know whether to wither or grow.Stuck in parallel, floating in limbo
arms outstretched, tell my story
i want to tell you mine
but will you hear me?

sometimes you feel like you're going all out just to be heard, but if you got something important to say, and that someone isn't listening, romantic or platonic, they're missing out - chill yo