Asking a question does more than fill open space.
It expresses curiosity.
Devolving into things not easily expressed.
Given our availability.
It expresses a deeper need for connection.
Whether we are open to what we desire most.
Closed off to preference.
 The right time of day or night we can de-clutter.
Taking in what we give out.
Asking a question isn't something done out of boredom.
Or merely because your there.
It expresses a thought that requires action.
That I've thought of you.
That there is a desire laid bare.
An anticipation that builds until the next time
I am able to hear your voice.
For the more serious moments require a deeper tone.
An ear that senses deeper need.
Responding to this deep need of connection.
A need of care.
A need of longing.
To respond to this vulnerability not out of responsibility.
But in the openness of being

I’m not stupid
Honestly, I promise
I think it might be
You making me nervous

I’m bad with speaking
You might think me a fool
I stutter and stumble
Trying to keep my cool

Not much time
To think it through
But I have to analyze
What each word will mean to you

I think and I think
I know what I want to say
The problem is just
I don’t know which way

My words seem to fail me
Mouth moving like a fish
I want to talk, please
It’s my only wish

Scared of saying it wrong
Confusing you, driving you away
I’m so ******* afraid
That I’ll make it not okay

I’ve found my words
Each and every one
But when I look back up
You’re already gone

Why is it that whenever someone tells me
to speak up about my problems and open up to them,
all of a sudden, they just become this
uncrossable barrier, so difficult to talk to?

Why does it feel like
they never really meant what they told me
when they said,
"I'm here if you need to talk to anyone"?

And for the past few months,
it has been increasingly lonely.
I don't want to disturb anyone
whenever I want to talk to them.

The talking heads used to sing a lullaby
now everyone dreads when they even sigh.
Creating static that no hands could hope to block out
hiding in the attic but the sealing’s peeled and so has the grout.

I can’t bear to hear another word
of resentment that is undeserved,
even the slightest breath of air
is a kin to irritation I can’t compare.

The talking heads used to compose magic
but now their frowns illuminate something tragic.
A life that pushes me out of place,
my skin, my heart and soul; a waste.

If you’re questioning what these words mean
while you’re reading them on an LED screen
you’ve yet to experience silence’s bliss,
when you do you’ll see it’s something to miss.
Noise cancellation fails the trial,
cars honk and phones dial,
I remember the sound of just the breeze
of damp grass and brushing knees.

The talking heads trapped in my ear
never seem to want to stop.
Telling me all I don’t want to hear,
I beg and plead but each topic they won’t drop

I can’t bear to hear another word
of resentment that is undeserved,
even the slightest hint of a sigh
is too much of an attempt to pry.

The lungs of who you are betray the bones of what you've become.
I could keep you in my hands for as long as I can hold my breath,
but that feels too long.

You're trapped around the grave of the person you wanted to find in me.
I can't be her for you.
Even for one night.
I can't be here for you.

You know it's true that your hands are tied between two more.
I'm not with you anymore.
I got the last laugh now you deal with what comes.

You miss talking,
and my ears don't miss being talked to.
You wish this was different,
and I do to.
You still don't want change,
but my bones are broken, and through them I feel my lungs.

talking fast
i have to get out my words
before someone else cuts me off

they said "slow down"
but if i slow down bad things happen.
everything catches up with me.
people cut me off
my fears catch up to me
i have to be busy
if im not busy i start to relapse

I love listening to you.
In any way possible.
Whether it's big or small.
Sometimes I get lost in not just the words you speak.
But the actions that follow.
I hate interrupting.
Adding on to previous statements.
Until I know that your completely done.
Not wanting to make you feel unappreciated.

My hands following yours in the deepest form of flattery.

Open ended questions that lead to hour after hour of communication.
My fondness for you growing deeper and deeper.
At times I can't help but interrupt.

Our pauses taking a bit longer after each statement.
It's the anticipation that I want you to know.
That I am listening and take to heart what you are saying.
Stretching myself to cover every part of you.

Completely attentive excited that you'd consider my opinion.
To sit back and reflect without jumping to conclusion.
The one thing that I can do to improve myself.
To love you better.
To accept any and every change that may occur.

A safe place where we can do and say anything without being judged.
I love listening to you.
Specifically without interrupting.
Noticing how happy you are being heard.
With the intent of hearing what you are truly saying.
I appreciate you for truly understanding that if I do interrupt
It's truly the sole purpose of how much I care