I
It was silent
on that thin line,
where mouth and lips
merge into eachother.
That line,
where words birth
and find freedom
in waste of lungs.
II
I stood in front of the mirror,
measuring the distance
between my lips;
quite impressive,
the space I found
to harbor language.
III
The taste of paper and ink
isn't quite what I expected -
maybe I couldn't stomach it raw
or perhaps it needed spice.
IV
Expectantly,
I opened my mouth
but only found a syllable
stuck between my teeth
and a letter
falling with a soft thud
in the sink.
V
Apparently,
my voice died
a million words ago.







I think its awesome, especially now that i see it laid out....wonderful 








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