There’s words inside of me not just my head.
They curl like smoke behind my ribs.
Yearning to be named.
Reluctant to cathartic practices.
Burnt out due to unraveling each letter
that goes through your ear and out the other
I feel the sadness in my throat
the disgust in my mouth
the anger in my head
the fear that crowds my chest.
don’t worry yourself with what I can’t speak out loud.
Silence is loud, when it’s full.
Such as my days, flooded and useless.
I hope it will all make sense
E-l-u-c-i-d-a-t-e.
I nurture the words that are only felt in my bones.
I will never know how to translate them into a sound only you can feel.