My fingers limb around the mechanic
I can form words through foreign tongues
But other words have a hard time coming out
As if there's a break in my lungs
Pencil heavy in my hand as I command myself to write.
But nothing. Words trailing off a cliff they haven't jumped from in years.
Unaware of what to expect. Afraid of what will happen if they transfer to the paper.
What power will they have? Will they be strong enough to get the message through.
I don't know. So, i break the pencil, burn the paper and keep my thoughts at bay
Always afraid of the jump.
YOU ARE READING
Don't forget to water the roses
PoesíaPoetry for The weary, for the undecided and "can't hide it" for the somedays and will be's for the love struck and the newbies. These words will flood your mind with inspiration, how to learn to forgive, and love. Not just someone else but yourself.
