it is a dry feeling
in my soul and my mouth,
as though speaking
seems too much of a troublesome act
to commit

as though a crime,
to utter a word
or two
or a sentence
or a phrase

so I’ll stay quiet
in hopes that the people by me
will understand --

and if not, let them be
because I only care for you
and you’re the only
one
who can release me
from this
selective mutism.