Words Unspoken

If I cannot speak, the words in my head will run around in circles until they wear themselves out and stumble out my ears, oozing dejectedly down the sides of my face.

They will be invisible, but I will feel them as they trickle down my neck and drip, getting all over my hands.

I will panic and spill my coffee, sending it flying all over my hands, and the words will scream at me, accusatory, infuriated that I could not speak and spare them this scalding over-caffeinated death.

Their tiny corpses will drip with the coffee to the floor.

I will rest a little easier knowing they are not still in my head.