Some days, the words don't fit.
Some days you can
try on any combination, make every adjustment possible,
but they'll only slip off into a
pile of fragments and bits of attempted sentences, abandoned descriptions.
Some days, there just is
no way to tie them together into
something that sounds right.
Some days, words fail you.
But I think for me, some days, it's
the other way around.
Not the words' fault, but my own.
I try to fit them together, but
my fingers are too big, too rough, to fumble them into meaning.
I pluck words from my brain, but not the right ones.
I pull out the wrong weeds, don't slow down and
take the time to
just look for a minute
realize this
wasn't what I wanted.
The words were there.
It was me who failed them.
Some days you can
try on any combination, make every adjustment possible,
but they'll only slip off into a
pile of fragments and bits of attempted sentences, abandoned descriptions.
Some days, there just is
no way to tie them together into
something that sounds right.
Some days, words fail you.
But I think for me, some days, it's
the other way around.
Not the words' fault, but my own.
I try to fit them together, but
my fingers are too big, too rough, to fumble them into meaning.
I pluck words from my brain, but not the right ones.
I pull out the wrong weeds, don't slow down and
take the time to
just look for a minute
realize this
wasn't what I wanted.
The words were there.
It was me who failed them.
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