It’s how I start the sentence,
Mouth opening and closing,
I know what I want to say,
But the only word that comes out is the first.
Afraid to finish my sentence,
Why…I couldn’t tell you.
Maybe I’m afraid of how you’ll see my after everything is said,
Maybe I can’t put the feelings into words,
That makes them true,
Makes the hurt and anger and helplessness real.
I can’t handle that.
Maybe I can’t deal,
Maybe this isn’t what I thought it to be,
And maybe I was wrong,
But you’ll never hear me utter those words,
Because maybe is the word that stops me every time,
The thing that makes me swallow the words that follow,