I couldn't
speak
'cause I was
hunched-over
dry-heaving and
yanking at the
things to say,
they were
lodged in my gut-pit,
like gum-wads
nickels
pennies
pieces of
construction-
paper
erasers
the heads
of lego-men
and other
pre-school-
cuisine,
and as the words
mounted I felt
my soul flail-
curling
into a ball
like a spider
drowning
in a pesticide-
puddle
shrieking
(on some
high-decibel)
into what became
an air-bubble
rising
up-through my spinal-
fluid
perching about
the brain-stem
on a neck
that wouldn't budge
when I should have
just
kissed you.
Eric Hamilton
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/some-things-are-better-left-unsaid/
