Librarians Kill for the Kind of Quiet
This is a complex heart-to-heart.
So I won't say that I can't defend my art with this lack of restraint.
So I'm slipping into the stained glass of this muscle memory.
With my lungs like an index, I'll be wading through context clues.
And things I should say like, "I wish I was brave enough to say this to you."
But the effort it would place on a lasting impression.
I'll be a footnote if I can't defend my art.
You could only teach me the words.
I could never learn how to say it.
I think I've had enough of the worst of the things I just take for granted.