My silence feels like a heavy slink tied around my vocal cords. I don’t want to speak anymore. for I am afraid of what and how the words would come out of my heaving lungs. I thought it was funny how our mouths can utter words without asking permission from our conscience. How you always spoke without having to think first. Talking felt like a chore to me. I always thought ahead. I even whispered my words inaudibly to train my tongue to say them, while trying to muster enough courage to speak them out loud. I don’t need to do that anymore.
I can’t will myself to speak anymore. You never had a problem talking. “You’re pretty good with words. You know exactly just what to say.” was what I often told you. Stupidly forgetting you were good enough to take my words with you.