Perhaps I chose my words poorly,
And now they’ve left me–
Devoid of all meaning,
Torn from my being.
Perhaps this is the end–
The result of my hiatus.
In my attempt to silence the voice
That speaks from within.
Perhaps my mind and body
Has conspired against me
To steal away my thoughts
And lock them in my sleep.
Perhaps this is my other half saying
That cutting her open to collect the words she bleeds
That keeps us alive,
Kills us dearly, too.
Or perhaps, the simplest reason–
I have stagnated from my brief silence
And words can’t find their way back to me,
As I have banished them a few days since.