In most of what
Has been written
And deemed worthy
To have been read
By others before me

I can see how firmly
They must have pressed
Their pens into the paper
By the boldness of the font
Even though it is printed

So clear
Their editing
And obsessing over
The punctuation

What is it like
To sit in a room with someone
And watch them be
Who they truly are

Write, like that
I wish they would have
Like they would talk
If they were right here
On the couch with me

So that I could meet them
Instead
Of this castrated form
Into which
They crammed themselves

July 02, 2021 at 02:59PM