Untitled 16
My sweet tongue is coiled, prepared to pounce,
ready to be free of those three heavy notes.
The major cadence forms in my chest and
the melody rises: a spectrum of mutinous lyrics,
a crescendo that’s longed to sing from my throat.
They are released from their cage in a discordant chord,
each tuneless, grey syllable tumbling from my mouth.
The raw words widow me three times over,
each ponderous sound confronts your puzzled face
as the tune melts in your silence, dispersing in the pale air.
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