This poem is in response to a poem by a woman in which her (lover?) told her that all she needed to do to be Perfect was to be Different, and all she needed to do to be Loved Better was to Be Better. (See how they get you?) They tell you you're Almost / tell you you're Nearly; that you'd be more if you were less. Oh, boy. I don't regret much, only the things I didn't say back. I needed More Life. (An education.) The Blade In My Mouth grows. Every year.
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if you were different you'd be perfect
Also, ‘the blade in my mouth grows’ - SO POWERFUL
I woke up this morning & the World heard me, through you, with this gorgeous response 🙏🏼