Every day in April, you put a poem in our lunch boxes to celebrate poetry month. the internet is your lunchbox and every month is april.
My heart is too small when I send it to the mud and I swear when I was making a ball of the strings of my insides I tried hard to stretch each length of string as it came out from between my teeth, I used my teeth as a wrench, I broke all or most of my teeth and I had to spend thousands of dollars at the dentist, and I made my heart so long and soft that I could wrap it all the way around your smaller heart. You said YOU REALLY ARE A STUPID PARADOX and I knew that you meant to say YOUR HEART CANNOT HOLD WITHIN IT THE WEIGHT OF MY HEART. You see I meant to write ruins. I meant to write great big soothing letters to you. I always thought I WILL CALL MY BOOK NEVER GOING TO THERAPY AGAIN and I swear I meant never to go to therapy again but I got lost. Each line was purple and the bricks filled the warehouse, again. I thought AGAIN I’VE LOST THE FUCKING GAME. I thought I WILL PURCHASE YOU THE PRETTIEST DOOR KNOB. I thought WHAT BETTER WAY TO HOLD YOUR HAIR. What better way.
THOMAS PATRICK LEVY
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