No More Words

There are times when my words are on my side, offering themselves to me at just the right moment in a proud, sacrificial gesture.

Then there are times when my words run away, turning around only to stick out their tongues.

A few of the more rebellious ones even give me the finger.

And across the haze I see Anxiety, my sworn enemy, looking all smug as the words line up, one by one, behind her. A few of the gentler words peek out at me sheepishly, looking a bit ashamed at their newfound allegiance. But I know it’s not really their fault. I don’t blame them.

I know I drove them to her.

It’s times like these that I sit, my heart ready to burst with emotions and ideas and stories . . .

But no words with which to share them.


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