Simple

Just words just words just words

You say my whole life has been 

Just words. 

Hullabaloo

Globular

Incandescent

Repetitive. 

The mishmash of language boils in my cranium. 

My lexicon is impressive. 

But it's the simple words,

Anger. 

Hurt. 

Sadness. 

That I have the hardest time voicing. 

You can see, from my 

Actions,

Or lack thereof,

That I am all these things as well. 

Similes and metaphors don't compare

And contrast

The starkness

The whole-ness

The truth

Behind those word-emotions. 

Other simple words start fires:

Love. Hate. Inspiration. 

But your actions provide the kindling.  

I can't live this way, can't live this way can't live this way 

can't live. 

Like this. 

Anymore. 

Compassion and empathy

Dried up like your touch

The moment I started to feel

Simple. 

Right and fairness and good,

Expired when

New life

Began. 

It's a choice you made somewhere along the road. 

In the before time,

I would wake up next to you

And happiness consumed my bones. 

I wake now

To empty beds

Empty promises

Empty love. 

I won't let the hollowness eating at me

Devour my legacy. 

I won't let the steam in me

Waft away into nothingness. 

I won't let you

Push me down

Into the depths of grey. 

My words are black on white pages. 

And I will shout them into existence. 

I will watch them lift off of the page

And flow into your ears. 

You cannot shut me out. 

I will fill your head with letter algorithms,

Anecdotal pieces

Of paragraphs. 

Until you hear me in the very bottom of your being. 

And maybe then you'll realize

I never left. 

I don't want to go. 

I just became

Simple.