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.