I’ve used the phrase “I can’t” so many times
It has carved a ridge in my throat: a feat all other phrases must scale to reach my lips.
Thank God for Grandma, her scissors and whiteout. If only the rest were so simple.
I beg you to forgive me, my surrender to gravity.
I’m better now, teaching new words to glide from my tongue
Increasingly refusing to change my shoes to match the carpet.
This fault line will scar my horizon, but landmarks keep us oriented in unfamiliar places.
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