Words catch in my throat like bugs on a web, stuck in phlegm,

Like tires caught in sludge on winter roads.

The words, the words, want to come but I line my throat instead with other things –

A sip of coffee, a look away, a “Did you have a good day?”, a “Can we talk some time?”

Tricks of my mind flick thoughts like dirt over what I really feel, what I really want to say –

What is it, rising like bile, I won’t know until it emerges, splatters on the floor,

Gets all over your face and hands, surely at an inopportune moment, surely when you were about to do something else, surely when your mood wasn’t suited to it –

Just the thing I had hoped to avoid.

I stop my mouth, close my lips, staunch my throat;

I flex my heart, fill with gasoline ‘til my tank is full of words –

I’m ready to drive for miles; you’re ready to take a nap.

I’d blame you if I didn’t blame myself; I’ll forgive you when I forgive myself.

So, in a moment when there’s no one else to speak to, when it’s just me here, I ask –

Words, what are you?  Tucked away in my ribcage, making my heart feel

Heavy, ready to burst –

Words, come to me, it’s time to say what you mean:

Sometimes, I don’t speak.

Poetry by Rachel
rayintheworld.com
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