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Emotionally Speaking

Void of emotion,

I can’t recall the last time I held one in my hand,

Without the help of a No. 2 or a Papermate.

It takes a sort of emptying of words:

                                         Dripping from my eyes,

                                                        Crawling down my arms,

                                                                             Sliding across my fingernails.

                                                                                            A glorified liberation

                                                                            Until feeling returns.

                                       There! I recognize it once again.

When I am finally immersed, standing knee deep in the poem,

No longer idly detached, more like my cat mid-air,

Full of hope. Sure. Alive. Aware.

I guess what I need to say is that I need this.

I said need.

Don’t confuse this for a hobby,

Or a misguided phase, like that time I antiqued.

It’s not even fair to say it’s an amusement,

Because sometimes, writing is whatever the opposite of amusing is.

I need it regardless,

Because after I walk through many of my poems,

If I make it to the other end,

I find more emotions than I can describe:

                                                                                  Even joy.

Written by Lanaya Alexander Torres