word-smithstress:

Pull these delicate words woven from

soft lace off my breath. Place them

under your tongue. Let them dissolve

into you. 

I’ve carefully crafted them

as if I sculpted them into a tiny clock.

Twisting the gears and tinkering with

the hands until they were just right.

Hovering over a table with a miniature

hammer lightly tap, tapping until late

into the night.

Pluck them like feathers from my back

just to make them useful

to you.



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