The Words I Cannot Say

The words I cannot say.

There are things I want to say, words behind the bumps and ridges of my tongue. I can feel these words bubbling inside me, creaking through my bones, pulsing through my leg muscles and the tips of my toes. I want to tell you what’s on my mind. I want to push and pull, twist and break. I want to make sense of these things that I cannot understand. I want to feel the release like stones in a pond, like water running over a naked body, like lying on cool tile. If I tell you what’s on my mind, in my heart, will it break these walls between us? Or will it fill the cracks, build us back up again?