sometimes i cut up your words so much
that i cant even see their true shape
i cant even pick them up
and make something of them
i dont want to love you with a magnifying glass
i dont want to love you with dull knives
but every so often this diced diction
dwells in my own throat
"did you use too much of this or not enough of that"
and i dont want to make your blood boil
or my own for that matter
so after i look too deep
i try to look far
and your words are still there
growing how they ought to be
fresh and full and poison free
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