What happens to a word unspoken?
Where can it go?
It is the unshared token
Between hearts tossed to and fro.

Silence is the ticking of the clock
The timer on a bomb
An impenetrable block
Quiet. Quiet.

It is the gushing flesh wound
Left to disease
Rotting from the lack of sound
Unseen by those you hope to please.

But what happens to a word left unsaid?
Where can it go?
Betrayed and left for dead
Choked by this elaborate show

It is buried deeply underground
In the Mausoleum of Cat-caught tongues
Where all the silence can be found
Screaming at the top of its lungs.