“Your head will collapse / But there's nothing in it”
Choking on my flood of emotions,
I look at you.
It starts somewhere deep and bubbles up,
Its goal achieved:
I can’t talk.
I stare and know that you don’t
Because I can’t tell it to you like this.
Words are a fake out.
They fit into neat boxes,
Sitting quietly, with a meaning,
Not a feeling.
I can’t tell you in words,
That would demean you.
I can’t tell it to you like this.
Then I leave, and begin
A process, a translation,
Not for you to understand me,
That would be too easy;
Rather for the satisfaction
You reluctantly sit
And listen to my unspoken words
Poured out of me willingly.
The flood reaches you,
And you run from the honesty,
Supplied to fill your empty head.