I used to
Write essays
I would describe every moment
Every experience
Just how it felt
In my way
As only I could
And people related
They couldn’t believe I had
Captured it
Just so
And now when I
Attempt
That same capture
Or rather that same
Telling
It feels like too much
It’s too loud
It’s mine
And it feels
Unsafe to have it out there
And so it feels
Untrue
Forced
Ingenuine
Not me
And so
Poetry
Fewer words
More interpretations
Because I’ve said less
And they have to fill in the blanks
And I like it this way
Because
They can have theirs
And i
Will
Keep
Mine