rise of a silent voice

i feel as if my voice is riding on owl wings

too soft to be detected

who’s fault is that but my own?

my creativity is defected

my thoughts are as cramped and kinked

as my hair when released at night

i remember when it used to shine silk

somehow soft and bright

but now corroded from breaths

taken inwardly rather than

speak my mind

i think.

i think

of things i wish

to say but can’t because

it’s impolite or if nice

because i lack the courage

to say more than “i love you”

and say out loud that my heart tears

at the thought of losing you

to move beyond simple sayings

society has pre-created for me

so that i don’t actually have to put my thoughts

on the line because that’s not something to do over

a cup of tea.

a cup of tea

is just a starting point of mesmeric proportions

spending hours staring at the dark water

splashing in my mug listening to you ramble

wondering what i should say so i totter

on the brink of getting wet or staying dry

i can’t decide if i should jump

and if i do and drown how would the air get back in my lungs?

would you pump

your life source into me so that somehow

i might return stronger

not because i lived and died and lived again

but because i have just a little bit

more of you

inside of me.

(c) Lauren Otheim – 2011