I have a million things to say.

Yet I keep silent.

I pepper my conversations with pregnant pauses --
Uncomfortable breaks which throw the whole thing off kilter
and send the other party slinking away.

Much later I practice what I might have said --
Something remarkable or brazen, hilarious or incredibly insightful.  
But it's much too late.  
Like a show horse balking at a gate, I arrived at the moment of truth

and chickened out.  

I could have made the jump, I just lacked the necessary courage.  

I marvel at people who are so
comfortable in their own skins that they can
talk with ease and aplum in any situation.
  
I envy them.  

Truth be told, I hate them.  

Don't they know I have something great to say?  
I'm just a little slow on the draw...
Okay, a lot slow...
But I do have a million things to say.