are you?

This post is part of a series called 100 Days of Poetry.


Some people talk with their hands, littering the air with their punctuation fists and elbows. But I talk with my whole face, seeing for the first time or reliving this exact moment again; the only way you’ll understand what I mean is when you pay attention to where my eyes dart. 

Em dashes of my mind. Every breath a comma, every intentional pause a period. My hands might creep up as an aide but what I’m really saying – all of the time – is are you even paying attention?

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