There was a metaphor about a hand,
but I forgot it.
Clutching softly
maybe --
who has the time for all that, though.
I wanted hard words to spill from my fingertips,
the way they fell from my chattering teeth on nights when I had too much.
Or the way tears fell from my eyes on the last night of my college career,
when I realized I was growing up and out.
5/8/2017
Riley Welch
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