I don’t cry much,
when I do though
I let the page catch my tears
that’s when you’ll see me
soft words leave heavy foot prints
endless indentations on your mind
braille for your eyes to touch
that’s when you’ll feel me
if you were to taste this page
you would indulge in me
raw and unsweetned,
untainted and pure
words can be flavorless
till the right spices are used
that’s when you’ll taste me
sometimes I can’t speak
but my words speak for me
when I have no voice
that’s when you’ll feel me
unmistakable in scent
pungent in its aroma
my words reek of this pleasant odor
that’s when you’ll smell me
some are conscience,
but not awake…
and will never know what
these words manifest
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