Words are knives.
They can chop the ingredients to a tasty conversation.
Or they can turn on you and hold the blade to your throat
But no matter how much I wanted to use these knives
To create meals of reasons why you should be mine
I can't.
My greatest fear is that these knives will turn away.
Go from my own neck and hold themselves at yours.
I'm afraid they'll slice through like a knife through hot butter
As they have to me numerous times.
I'm afraid the knives will make that cut.
I'm afraid they'll sever the binding between me and you.
My greatest fear is to lose the one I care for most.
I keep the knives that are the sharpest tied to my own neck.
Because of the knives I've sharpened,
I'm afraid of the words I never said.