I have something to say.
It's stuck on my lips.
The.
Lingering.
Pause.
In each wordless
Breath.
The movement in each averted gaze.

It's the shoddy cork
holding back
Each waterfall of
Tears.
The longing sign I ask God for
then ignore.
For the thing I fear most is not
Whether I say.
It's the thought  that you have
nothing to say,
back to me.
Met with silence.