I always pick up the pieces from broken tension after fights, and I collect them like sea glass and convince myself one day I'll build a masterpiece out of the words I couldn't say in that moment and when it's finished maybe I could make you hear me. But right now my cowardice is stifling and my insecurity is my only muse and that's not something I can explain to you. So I bury my words and you take it as surrender, and I have to remind myself that I can't expect you to hear words that I can't say.
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Author:
c.b (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: July 28th, 2018 10:09
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 43
- Users favorite of this poem: i.am.here.now
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