Inside My Head

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Photo Credit: Hidden-target at deviantart.com

I live too much
inside my head.

I read
funny,
sad,
beautiful things,
and tell no one.

You’d think I’d forget
and just say,
“hey, listen to this,”
and then read out
some pretty poem
to whoever will listen,

but I don’t.

I think,
“that was lovely
or heartbreaking
or hilarious,”
and I move on,
forget,
or internalize,
whichever,

because I know
the people listening
wouldn’t care
about some stanza
that struck
just the right key,
pinged just the right feelings
to make me laugh or cry

and I think it’s sad
that I live alone in this,
that these beautiful moments
stay inside instead of out.

~Patience

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