The Things We Left Unsaid

poems that even paper can't handle

There are poems inside of me that the paper can’t hold.
I try to write, but the words are too heavy, too much.
The ink won’t flow, and the page stays empty,
as if it knows it can’t handle what I need to say.

My mind is still overflowing,
and I close the book,
for words shall not be penned.
These heavy truths, too fragile to be bold,
and paper cannot bear what I intend.