Regular Poem: My idiolect yet

9 Apr

Day 9: Just under the wire!

My idiolect yet
contains, retains, maintains
pieces of you,
phrases exchanged in mutual talking,
picked up and hoarded
in corners of my brain, stored
up in closets and caskets.

I find it aggravating
when I mean to just say
something
and you come out of my mouth.

Many pieces of you that linger
along the ragged, barely tamed frontiers of my life
are easy.
They take no time
no effort
no emotion
to explain into a comfortable oblivion,
to obfuscate into a benign separation,
to–
to–
oublier,
laisser,
tuer.

But
language
is hard.

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