I talk to myself;
It scares me how much I do...
Maybe I need help.

In most silences there is a hint of regret
One not easily overcome.
The awkward silence of not knowing what to say.
The fear of rambling about nothing as most times
It's better to remain silent.
The after thought of finally finding the perfect thing to say,
Always after the moment has passed.
Random references, awkward stares.
I hate mental blocks.
Especially when it comes to someone that you've been thinking about all day.
Of all things in the world why is it hard to find that one perfect thing that won't
Succumb to the peer pressure of finally arriving at the moment when thought becomes
Action.
That one thing that won't make you appear completely insane to a complete stranger

The rumors are true,
Nighttime crowds, hand stuffed hoodies.
Blah blah blah. Yada yada yada.
V neck t-shirts with decals printed on the back of them.
Sweatshirts. Loose cargo shorts.
The holiday of photo galleries captured between blinking eyes.
Tickets sold half priced.
Too bad movies aren't the way they used to be.
A stigma that everything around changes.
A few empty seats, one empty stall in the men's bathroom.
A exclusively graphic depiction of unzipped blouses, unbuttoned  pants.
Toilet tissue stuck to the bottom of worn shoes.
Suddenly there's a tote for whatever bag that needed to be held.
But then again we're just chatting, aren't we. Two souls with nothing to do but vandalize each other's mind.
Blah blah blah. Yada yada yada.

This was the year that I learnt how to be silent.
Sometimes to allow others to speak.
Once because I was afraid.
Twice because my eyes were too full of the love in front of me to allow my lips to move.
Often because silence is solitude and I am lonely.
Every now and again because I was wary of what my voice would say.
Rarely because I was in awe but mostly because I am weary and to speak is to engage.

Of all things,
She opened my mouth and built a bridge only we knew existed.
She arranged pillar upon pillar
Of steel beams.
I struggled understanding what
To do with the left over bolts.
She grabbed my hand
Taking turns throwing them on the outskirts of where we stood.
We stood between the beams,
An incline of sights seldomly seen.
Afraid of heights she rarely looked down.
She'd bury her head in my chest
Very rarely she looked down.
Spoken words clustered in steel beams
Without fear of plunging below.

Where did you go
Why won't you come back
It makes me sad
To think of all I lack
Perhaps it's silly
And you'll think me a fool
But I can't deny
That I'm still in love with you...

Sometimes talking feels like walking steadily towards a moving train,
The power,
Chug, chug, chug,
Volume rising like the temperature behind my eyes,
Pacing, pacing, feet floating heavily below my knees,
Like carrying the weight of both of us on my back where you touched me once and I jumped,
Chug chug chug,
Words fall like bags of sand,
Dry and broken from my mouth,
Lit by the lights of the choo choo locomotive that will grind my bones firmly into the track,
Breathlessly I watch the train
Stop,
I step on rushing with the light and the hope and the words ready to spill from my mouth like viscous liquid,
Ready to pour into you,
I love you!
I gasp for air and swallow the liquid down like medicine,
Maybe next time.