My words betray me, as I lack the grace and poise I so badly want to cloud the air with.
The fragility of each string of sentences binds my insides, and they come up short of really letting you in. Whispers, fading in my escaping breath. And no matter how hard I battle the words, I can’t give them any meaning.
And there you stand, skin and bones, weathered in the confusion, lips pursed, begging the filter of your cigarette for suffocation. Waiting for me to make some kind of sense. And I, just as confused, stand a collection of mismatched thoughts and a heavy, frail heart. Empty words fill my chest, as my lungs beg for the smell of your skin.
My arms, limp, as windless porch chimes. I realize the mess I’m making and I want to run. And finally, after minutes of reasoning with my legs, my heart stops; my blood stops rushing through my veins, and the pounding words in my head silence. My chest, as quiet as an abandoned house. Where the floor boards sigh in loneliness.
And as the numbness completely takes me over, I walk away. And if it weren’t for this hard knot in my throat, I would turn back. I would beg you to understand me. But just as any other time, I leave, before I am left.
And this will be a burden, that I will add to the cage in my chest, and I will carry with me.