I wish I was a character in a novel
My conversations would be meticulously crafted
I would never be at a loss for....words  
There wouldn't be          long          awkward
Silences
                               Between sentences
I would never have to repeat myself
I would never have to repeat myself
I would never be unblurred
No i  said misheard
My thoughts wouldn't s-s-stutter right out of the gate
Causing a ten word pile-up in my mouth
I wish I could make life more novel
I just want to trim away all the fat
All the conversational excess
To get to the real meat of it
Do away with all conversational trivialities
And just move the plot forward

"When we first started talking, I had no idea how much of an effect you would have on my life."

"There was something between us.
It was like we had known each other for years.
It was something that made it so easy and so natural to talk to you.
It is very rare to find that with someone."

If I could talk not
I would never, forever.

Silently thrilled
by the voiceless unwords within

If I could talk not, forever.

If I could talk not
I would never, forever.

Thinking the doing
creating the world end and begin

If I could talk not, forever.

My hands have betrayed me.
Once the means to write pages,
Now my hands are only dead weight.

My hands won't pick up a pen.
Or even type short,
Choppy sentences.

They dangle at my sides
And find refuge in my hair,
Leaving me bleeding.

Like my hands,
My mouth has declared itself
My enemy.

Once the passageway for words
To explain myself,
My mouth is now as useful as a broken bridge.

With nothing of value to say,
It talks  
And sings anyway.

It opens without my permission
But stays closed whenever I try
To scream meaning.

The inability to illustrate
Or translate my mind
And my soul
Is not an unfamiliar ordeal.

But it's lonely on the outside
And frustrating looking in.
It seems I'll always feel like an alien.