If they were only words,
without strings,
they would fly as
untethered balloons, skyward.

If it did not lead to consequences
miles and miles of dominoes,
they would be set free, easily.

But these syllables are not music,
they are simply keys,
that open more doors than they close,

so no such words will I utter,
and no peace will you know.







I feel them brushing
against my face,
leaving gentle marks of powder
like the color on my cheeks,

my skin remembering their touch
again and
again and
then comes another: warm, soft;

it joins the others and
I wish I could catch them,

hold them,
pin them to cardboard
like butterflies.

Slow down!,
I want to enjoy
these words your mouth makes,
these words like warmth
like wind the silken touch of weathered wings

so when you tell me
I was right to be bitter
I will not hurt so loudly.

It is still so
Funny to me
You know I how
I feel
I know how
You feel

And yet these words

They catch in my throat
Less now than before
But still

One of the things
We have in common

Words have power
We know the power of words

Though I may speak them more
I know you are filled with many

I seek outlets
Afraid to scare you
Though I know you are fierce
Fighter and lover

You are not afraid of me

Old fears die hard but
Maybe it will be so simple
Uttering those words someday

node discovery thank you to lizardinlaw

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