The small nuances that come and go in a conversation-

The tiny habits of yours that you expect others to catch,

And even the way I myself can say only a word at a time.

I hate it all.

Words are not enough.

They are never enough.

It's impossible for them to ever be enough.

We've tried to define the undefined with sounds and letters;

and have become so far lost in our own definitions that we fail to see the truth.

And so, right now, with this clogged up feeling in my chest,

I beg of you, that you'd please just let me breathe.

Let me empty myself out to you, and tell you everything I'm thinking without filter or bias.

Would you be able to listen to me completely, without letting the complications of your own understanding break us apart?

Do you think you, too, could learn to breathe?

Do you think you, too, could learn to be desperate enough to not care?

Do you think that you, too, could just stay by my side?

I want to scrape it all out-

every single bit of this unnecessary frustration and agony.

I want to empty it all out, until there's absolutely nothing left inside.

Yet no matter how hard I try, I-

No matter how hard I try, I-

There's always something that remains.

I wonder if that could be a good thing.