Where Are My Words?

Women Who Think Too Much by Jeanne Marie

Where are my words?
I haven’t heard a sound.
They sometimes
Pour from my fingers
Dripping all over
Flowery notepaper
Napkins and notebooks
Anything that makes a sound.
Then the words, the damn
Ugly, beautiful, painfully real
Words, they just go away.
Up to the sky like a balloon
Floating just out of reach.
My mind goes blank
My heart goes numb
My fingers heartless as steel.

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