I must confess
that it is difficult to find the proper words
to express how, exactly, I feel.
I must confess that I dread explaining myself
for fear that my eradic thoughts
would convince you of my unintelligence.
I studder. I pause.
I bash my head into the table to release the words!
And here you stand
wide-eyed and patient,
waiting for me to utter the most tasteful of phrases.
But I must confess that I can't.
My eyes will remain attached to the floor
while I trail off on a thought,
and quickly insist "nevermind"!
if you ever asked me to write what I felt
I really could.
You see, words and pages wait forever.
And once I've written,
and once you've read,