logolepsy(margins)

i used to sit
with a large dictionary
flipping frantically
to decipher
the full intent
of a sentence
with each new word
i came closer
to being able to
describe the various
ways i felt
i was not angry
i was inchoate
that is not red
but shimmering
vermillion
my brain has
always been filled
with too many thoughts
things i could
never articulate
but now i realize
it was always
the words and the
way they danced
the images they
could paint freely
no artist could
hope to attain
they are the
molecules upon
which everything
is built
and they should be
celebrated
more so than the
fools that string
them sloppily together

i know
a million words
for all the things
i could never say
there is a
breathtaking
poignancy in
such a delicious
malaise
but when i
whisper i love you
there are no words
to describe
the sensation
so i flip through
my mental dictionary
hoping if i
infuse them
just right
you’ll see it
resting happily
in the margins

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