I stare at you, words hanging from the inside of my teeth, ready to bungee jump into the world. Somehow I continue to hold them in place, tying the ropes in knots around the roots of my teeth, allowing the words to be swallowed back down my throat so I can choke on the emotions I am holding back. I wish I could say something.
I always hate the fact that instead of the bravery I so wantonly display as a mask, the fear I long to hide comes forth from the deepest reaches of my soul to grip my limbs in a vice. The fear of being judged pounces on my unprotected psyche, devouring it like a tiger before latching onto my limbs. They shake as if trying to escape before I press them against the scratchy fabric of my sleeves.
How can I say this to you? I want to let the words climb out of the mountain of my insides until they reach the light of day before climbing into your ears and awaking the synapses that lay in there. I wish I had boldness to scream to the world, this is my friend and I am damn proud of her. But instead I stare into the cup of coffee in front of me, letting the tiger sink her claws deeper into my cowardly lion hide that I wear.
So here we sit adrift on an open sea, arms interlocked into a hug but islands that drift further and further from each other with every second that passes because of my lack of courage.
No comments:
Post a Comment