The Sweetness of Silence

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Words, my best friends and my worst enemy. In my mind they are going at a hundred miles an hour….BUT that is where they stay. I try to get them to the tip of my tongue but ohhh no they said to me “this is not done” So now I am drowning in my words, in my thoughts, in my own insecurities. Now don’t get me wrong some of these words do make it out like battered soldiers coming back home from war, but when these words kiss the wind they get carried somewhere else instead of the ears I so long wish to communicate with. Whoever it may be on this day fails to see the words I so gently and delicately picked out for them, and just them. Slap in my face, wouldn’t you say. See now I want to tell the world about my ideas, my thoughts, my feelings but this apprehension has got my words hostage. But these old words have little fight in them with all their mileage. The silence as cruel as it is has become one of my best friends, following me around like I was its caretaker. Silence in all of its sick mannerisms comes up to me and asks “How are you today? What are we doing today? I hope you never leave my side.” Like a crazy, obsessive stalker ex girlfriend silence won’t leave. The silence won’t leave me. Now let me paint a picture so vividly that you soon will find yourself in my place. So lets start with the words that sit at my feet, these are the words that express my defeat. And with each step I take escape is what they seek. Now to the words that flow by my knees, these are the words that should come to me with ease but instead I freeze. The words that run up and down my thighs are filled with lies that love to see the surprise in your eyes.The words at my waist are often misplaced or erased. And once at my chest for long these words do not rest because they are suppressed. The words that somehow make it to my throat are the very words that make me choke. It’s all for nothing and I wind up going home broke.  Now since childhood my words always played on the tip of my tounge, they would get close to jumping off but they would turn around and run. The youngest of two it was expected to be coddled and overlooked but it shook…me because now I feel like I can’t express myself freely. I find inspiration from Dylan and I keep telling myself the times- they are a changin. Because these words are flowing at an immense pace and this damn dam I have built up won’t hold up much longer. But for now I let my words flow to my fingers and from my fingers to countless numbers of blank white pages. And piece by piece Waiting to be turned in to masterpieces and just for a moment this apprehension ceases….to exist.

 

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