by Laura Gibson
You want these words as your own. But you can't have them. They belong on my lips and my tongue. They have tasted the bitterness of injustice and the sweetness of redemption. They have cast out demons that seek to destroy and called upon angels to encamp around. These words have raised mountains to where the highest peak had touched heaven itself, and yet has carved valleys so deep, you can feel the heat of the earth's core. James said I curse and bless with this mouth. Sticks and stones they say. But what do you know about my words? You say "Think before you speak." and "Hold your tongue." and "DONT SPEAK UNLESS SPOKEN TO!" and you kill me with "If you stop talking about it, it will go away". But when I'm silent you say..."What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?" If you only knew. The words that I say will crumble the floor on which you stand, make you heart burst through your chest, bust your ear drums wide open and make you scream for mercy. You’re not ready for my words, you haven't earned the sight of my lips parting to enunciate the sweet articulation, where my tongue parts these lips and trickles down the nectar of my minds delicious satisfaction…you want it. So bad. You hypocrisy is amusing. This irony alluring. My soul still enduring. But…I will keep it to myself for now. Not the right time or place. Don't worry...your pride is kept safe.....for now.
