The words are all there… I know them well
They poured out of a hole in some choked corner of my heart
Now they are crowding inside me
No longer abstract… No longer empty… Thirsting for form
Every pause in my sentence is loaded with them
Every sigh that escapes me carries them
The aborted words, wounded and hurting
They try to ooze out of my pores
They strain against my knuckles
They attempt to roll down in my tears
They push against the corners of my lips so hard that it hurts to smile… At you…
I tried letting them out when it was safe,
For me.
In front of a mirror, in my solitude
I closed my eyes and thought of you
I said the words out loud and waited…
Till I ran out of all the imaginary responses you would give
Till I ran out of imagination
I felt hollow but I didn’t miss them.
It was futile.
The words came back as if they were tethered.
They couldn’t be conned.
The vacuum of silence guided them back to me.
Homing pigeons in a turbulent sky
Still wounded. Still hurting.
No image I conjured could hold a candle to what they were seeking.
You.
They needed a home in you
They needed you to hear them
To take them to your heart
Or to cast them out of it.
They would rather die at your hands than be kept stifled inside me
My words were foolish but brave, than I would ever be…
So here they are.
With you and me.
They are dying to tell you… What I really feel
