Bones scraping
like tongues,
vying to be clean.
All my best words evade me.
Thought I was
saving them for later,
not realizing.
Now we're
indistinct chatter,
the backtrack with
nothing worth articulating.
I meant I'm sorry
every time.
I wish I still meant
something, anything.
But now
all my best words evade me,
and you aren't listening
anyway.
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