|
|
|
Jun 19 2007, 6:46 pm / Bored
The ones that slip are shallow, They break like glass among my teeth. The shards, they fade to nothing but common talk as they draw farther and farther away from my lips. The ones I want- don’t make it. They cement themselves in time, Then roll back on their part. Roll back down Into the sea of the non existent words inside my throat. The ones that ache and leave a choke I cannot speak- The tides are high, and over-ride my voice They drown it out from sound. And isn’t it ironic? That they become so high, That the last resort they have is screaming through my eyes In a language that only you may understand. |
