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Silence
August 1, 2014
The words never come to me like I want them to. They laugh and betray me when I need them most.
Those foul, fickle things.
They toy with my mind like you toy with my heart. If words were my friends, then I wouldn't be standing
p a r a l y z e d
in a fog of my own brokenness.
I wouldn't be ruthlessly haunted by my most wonderful memories as if they were terrible ghosts. If words really loved me, then you would know how much I really love you.
© Samantha A., Southbury, CT
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