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Can’t Be Spoken
By Emilee Friend “I love you”The words get heaver as I age;A weight in my chest.They stick to my tongue.Their taste foreign,meant for everyone else.But I’m a hoarder.I can’tI won’tPart with them so willingly. “I love you”My aversion isn’t noble.I’m not saving this for ‘the one’This is fearOf knowing what love isOf accepting its existenceOf realizing I might not fit the moldI know I can’t,I won’tGive them this. “I love you”I can write the wordsIn sloppy penmanship.They stare ate me from on the page,But my mouth can’t form the sounds,Haven’t been able to in years.I hate this.
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Spilling Tea
By Emilee Friend They gossip As I sip earl grey. No sugar is added To sweeten their words Or the bergamot on my tongue. They add cream To lighten the topic. I prefer my tea bitter and black, Better to keep me alert Of those with a knife at my back. They gulp down Nightshade tea, Declining the offer Of lavender, chamomile, or mint. Tea parties are wasted If you don’t poison each other With words. They let the drinks get cold. Teacups crack, Dripping red drops of rooibos, Staining the white cloth. They don’t take a break. The stain sets.
