Words.
I have words.
Words floating around.
One here, another there. Put it down. Say it outloud.
Words with meaning, words with air.
What would it feel like, if I had none to share.
What if my words fell on deaf ears
What if interpretation wasn’t near
What if the words only stopped here, with me
I can only wonder how lonely it might be
If I spoke and no one could hear
If I wrote and no one would read
How isolating, how absolutely terrifying
These words that are floating
These words that I wade through
These words that I flee from because of what they might mean
But, alas, I have forgotten they are quite a luxury
When I scratch them down, with paper and ink
It’s a relief I can let others know what I think
Because then sometimes… sometimes, I’m understood
What a privilege it is to simply have words.