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Reverence for words.

I write,

More than I speak.

I carry my words

In feathers.

They’re silver lined

Like the moon.

I touch them with a

Light hand.

Fearing they might shatter too;

(My framework alike)

My idioms,

Are vague, unclear and appalling.

Sometimes,

Delicate and clumsy.

I sit retaining,

Each term of mine

Back to life.

It would be wrong of me,

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To slaughter the one’s

I’m hesitant of.

The courtesy,

And admiration (my) words deserve.

With all my heart and pain

I offer reverence,

To all (my) words;

Intense or plain.

 

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