i can’t hear the wind
above the sound of your voice
as you speak
the words in my stomach
fight to be free
but inch like slugs
too slowly to make
a difference
too slowly to start
a sentence before
the sound of the wind
engulfs us
floating and leaving no trace
i can’t hear the wind
above the sound of your voice
as you speak
the words in my stomach
fight to be free
but inch like slugs
too slowly to make
a difference
too slowly to start
a sentence before
the sound of the wind
engulfs us
they stick in your throat
the words
they struggle
under your adam’s apple
a constriction
a spasm of the muscles
poorly coordinated nerves
preventing them from exiting
they stick
“i’m sorry”
try to swallow them down
“i was wrong”
let them
let them
let them open your mouth
let them open your mouth
“i was wrong”
let them be heard
“i love you”