your poetry makes me feel i n - f e r i o r.    and

it feels like a slap on my
                     sunburnt knee as
     i tried to make a joke about it but no one laughed
i wish it would rain again as i                                  why don't my words sing anymore
   look at the hovering clouds and
remember how it
                          t h u n d e r e d    last night and how it was glorious
                         the lights flickered
and how i wasn't afraid
for
once.

i'm breathing
loud enough to annoy myself and
                my seasonal allergies are seasoned professionals
                  when it comes to being a pain in the
                                                           a**, or rather
i                                 
mom is in the kitchen probably wondering why i'm    grumpy as
           i ponder the possibility of a conspiracy theory that
we're really twins and you're   the better one.

you must be the better of us two because                   your words sing like chickadees
you have the courage to   talk to
                                                    strangers
                                                         and you
       did you ever know that                                           you're my   hero
have the courage   to put on a killer dress and
                        dance with quasi-strangers
                        i didn't know i wanted it until it was too
                                                                                                        late

and you know   what you want and have
the audacity to            go for it
you sound elegant and never   cheesy even when you
                                                                                       i'm old enough to know my heroes are
                                                                                        human and fall sometimes
rhyme, which i never can do.   my words always come out
in sputters and stammers and                            i i  i i
            i hate that i'm only part myself
                                                                     i
                                                                     fixate
                                                                     eyes on
                                                                                 i
haven't written anything coherent in   a g e s   ,   a n y w a y.   and i
wonder if my brain somehow shut d
                                                       o
                                                       w
                                                       n   because
            i have two brains
                        the heir and the spare.                             but i'm no heiroinE
i don't think i see things like i used to.
          

the spring is vibrant but my mind has
  gone grey as i      try to write something other than
                                                                                    neurotic a.