Words

You notice my eternally constipated face, that scowl that joins my eyebrows, the look that I am reticent. You look at me and ask if something is on my mind. I force a smile and shake my head, knowing that I was as convincing as the antiChrist preaching the Gospel.


How do I tell you that you are on my mind? How do I tell you that I am sorry? In fact, how do you apologise to a bird whose wings you have clipped off? So many emotions I have inside me. So many thoughts shouting in my head. So many things I wish to tell you.


But I just do not know how to.