Time slips and
still lips stick holding words as prisoners.
What will happen
to everything I didn’t say?
Will it rattle the cage of my torso
forcing my belly to distend?
Maybe that is why
the old man on the corner looks pregnant – he waits hoping to give birth to his voice.
Time rolls yet
numb tongues twist grinding thoughts as chaff.
What will happen
to everything I didn’t say?
Will it rise up against containment
surfacing in the sunlight?
Maybe that is why
the folds of flesh appear on aged frames – these hide the unsaid safe against the self.
Thinking in a White Room 
Wow. This is really powerful! “Maybe that is why… the old man on the corner…” I took a breath when I read it. I could picture it; what a powerful meditation on unsaid words. Now I want to say all the things.
You made a picture of regret with words, but more than that. This was great.
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Thanks, Tim. It’s a combination of wondering what the body remembers ala Dr Bessel Vanderkolk
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This is amazing. You have captured the regret, but also the things we don’t say to protect those we love. Beautiful.
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What will happen to those words we do not say? They definitely stick in my thought and cause a blockade.
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I agree with the above comments- very powerful. Sometimes I struggle with slicing when there is so much I want to say but can’t in this forum.
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I keep coming back to read this again and again.
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There are so many lines here! The first ones…Time slips and
still lips stick holding words as prisoners.
I keep thinking of Clint Smith’s TedTalk performance poem about silence, and I know it’s not the same, but I got that same shudder of emotion. There is so much going on here that I want to know the in betweens. Thank you for a beautiful poem.
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This is gorgeous. Dang. So many sounds that stick, so many images, so much truth. Just… wow. “Maybe that is why/ the folds of flesh appear on aged frames – these hide the unsaid safe against the self.”
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