Why Words Aren’t Enough

I keep trying to say something
of what the heart knows
without learning it
but it’s like explaining
why the sky bruises purple
just before dark
or why leaving
still tastes like metal
in my mouth.

The words aren’t wrong
but they feel too small
too thin
for what they’re meant to hold.

I try to speak honestly
and end up with something
like a coin slipped
into the wrong person’s hand.

Still, there’s a beauty
in the trying, 
a stubborn, mule-hearted beauty.
We keep lifting the words
as if they were stones
on a hill we know
we’ll never finish climbing.
And yet we climb.
Because sometimes
a single syllable
comes close,
not to telling the truth,
but to becoming
the ache of it.

Thank you for reading and spending time in my small corner of the world.

I am grateful for your presence!