By Serena Gross
I prefer my words when you repeat them back to me.
You make them sound like poetry.
Real poetry, not the kind of stuff I pump out for a deadline.
You treat my words like sugar glass.
They are sweet and delicate and light.
They must be handled with the care they deserve and be served atop honey and lemon cake along with tea in cups that were kept on the top shelf waiting for special occasions that never came.
I like how you think I think about the meaning behind my words,
Use every stroke of my pencil to start a new movement.
When in actuality, I am relying on you to find the metaphor for me.
I write my words like beautiful women,
deadly if you stick around too long.
I write my words like dried petals,
Delicate and difficult to hold without them shattering.
I speak them like shards of painted over mirror
And you manage to return them to me as sugar glass and poems and daintily gift-wrapped tea cups.
Serena Gross is a seventh grader at Pioneer Valley Performing Arts School and has attended Woven Word since third grade. When she is not writing, she enjoys musical theatre, fashion, and listening to podcasts. She loves Woven Word because it pushes her to be more creative with her work and exposes her to “out of the box” styles of writing, courtesy of her fellow writers.
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