Misplaced

A poetry collection about feeling misplaced.

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12. Burn my tongue

Hot cups of tea,

Burn my tongue,

I have to drink,So that I numb,

 

The mouth that spoke,

with such carelessness,

There’s thousands of wounds, I have to caress,

 

When I speak,

I don’t feel heard,

And I know it’s dramatic, but goddamn it hurts,

 

It’s got nothing to do,

With you and your ears

But all to do with the mess up here,

 

So i promise my brain,

That I’ll keep to myself,

Don’t throw salt in an open wound,

 

But I always talk,

Myself out of it

Must pretend, I’m not a fool

 

 

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