UNSAID, BUT IN MY HEAD

It's so often that I say
The wrong things,
Like a runaway train,
A waterfall of tumbling words
Cascading merrily, issuing forth
To vanish down the drain.
Its like I see myself
In a broken mirror,
I stumble barefoot
On the shattered glass
Then I'm teetering on the brink
Above a deep mountain pass.
The insecurity arises
And I cling on to my thoughts,
My voice fades, it's left unsaid
I know I have to talk
I bleed from the wounds
Made by the words in my head.
I express myself
With words written in coal
On a blackboard,
Stumbling about in the dark
My armour is pierced
As I fall on my sword.
I try, oh how I try
To paint you the scene
My brush strokes heavy in glove,
The picture isn't how I see it
I can't capture the masterpiece
The art of simple love.
My voice now in writing
To live forever in verse
Long after I'm gone and dead,
The love I find so hard to tell
Still unsaid, though read
And released from my aching head.
Phil Hall  November 2013