BHS Inkwell 2017-2018

The Jewler By Hannah Stafford

For you, I will piece together pleasantries, spill entire narratives of nothing but ‘Hello’s’ and ‘How do you do’s?’ Hollow, but we are still young, and the vacancies are easy enough to ignore Sometimes I wonder if the ink inside my pen knows that I lie to myself as often as I lie to you Maybe that’s why all our conversations sound more like a script, recited by an actor who has yet to memorize their lines

Why the words I put on paper warble and whine, tangling my letters into incomprehensible scribbles, The ink doesn’t like it when I braid the truth into a maze that better fits around the people I adore It’s harder to manipulate the black and the white when your pen knows what colors they stand for

For you, I may lie Behind locked jaws I am a Jeweler of parables, but my necklaces are not what they seem I use teeth in place of beads, sinew where there is usually string, I can’t help that these thoughts turn my breath noxious, the enamel on my teeth rotten No matter how often I floss the guilt still makes my gums bleed. I’m sorry I don’t worship honesty as strictly as you do At least my stories are welcomed with open arms.

Rania Abdalla

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