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No chance.
        I pull my gaze away from the window.
    Gray on paper,
but the words won't come.

Seems like I've said it all a thousand times.
I've given this heartbeat
plenty of chances to whisper
the truth to the pen
to the paper
to the notes
to the keys
but the words won't come.

Thoughts aren't always enough.
Sometimes they're just
    swirls in the margins.
Poetry swiftly becomes melody,
       And they all whisper
               stop, stop.
She knows.

And I whisper back,
          no, she doesn't.

No chance.

I can feel the snap, believing in
a broken heart, the pieces turn
to words in midair and flutter to
the ground so they will shatter
no further.
If I change it all
into meter and metaphor, it
can't hurt me again.

But what if the words won't come?
Another poem
Macadamiannutjob Featured By Owner Jul 25, 2012
I think I can relate to this... I really like it especially the "And they whisper stop, stop, she knows. And I whisper back, no, she doesnt." I always get this idea that somehow the person I'm in love with is going to figure me out just because I write it down...
roxilove10 Featured By Owner Jul 25, 2012  Hobbyist Writer
Thank you so much! I appreciate the thoughtful comment. I definitely understand the sentiment.
Macadamiannutjob Featured By Owner Jul 25, 2012
Your welcome :)
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Submitted on
March 5, 2012
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