I’m running out of words for you
in case you haven’t noticed.
They don’t come quickly anymore and
I am suffocating beneath the silence.
Every syllable reposed behind my lips
seems clumsy and ill-fitting,
compared to all the hues and intricacies
that swell beneath my skin.
I’ve gotten older and become aware
that we are all lonely and desperate
is something broken inside of me.
I’ve got this ocean in my hand
and there’s no cure for that.
Word, no words, all words
in hazardous commotion
longing to be released from
their prison behind clenched teeth and fists.
Poets never sing as beautifully
as the caged bird calling for freedom.
We weave the craftiest of lies and pray
that you’ll read between the lines
and love us just enough to release
us from our burden.