I sense them trying to form.

the sudden, mad syllabic rush

as if each thought is

battling to be voiced in unison.

A thunderous blast of wordlessness

everything and nothing —

an aborted cacophony —

utterances never to be heard,

over a blur of muted tears.




14 thoughts

  1. Clouds without rain don’t water. so well crafted, you have expressed an obscure sorrow, the feeling of being ready to let the ideas and the feelings flow, and then held back by some sort of circumspection.

    Liked by 1 person

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