In Words

What I want to say, lingers

in a dark tunnel, echoing off

velvet black, syllables fading.

What I want to say is stuck

on the tip of my tongue,

stapled down, wiggling,

hoping to be set free.

What I want to say can not be heard,

the casualties too much

of a sacrifice for vowels

that cling to consonants, that bleed

from being squished into silence.

What I want to say can not be

expressed in language,

not the words of mortals,

not the tongue of the natives.

What I want to say

is flowing through my veins,

pulsing, throbbing in my heart.

What I want to say I swallowed

with the stew, pasta, bloody steak,

swallowed, swallowed, then vomited

and swallowed some more.

What I want to say has been said,

over cocktails, cocaine, after sex,

in the hours of shame, the words escaped

my lips, falling on deaf ears

wiped away with spent orgasm.

What I said is now

an after thought,

a drunkards moan,

a late night piss.

Silence.

My eyes speak for me now.

Photo: © Julie Anderson All Rights Reserved


Julie Anderson

Julie Anderson is the Creator and Publisher of Feminine Collective. Julie was inspired to create this safe place for women to share their secrets, desires, triumphs and pain as the antithesis of what mainstream media offers women today. In her column Pursuit of Perfection, she explores the importance of rectifying the balance of inner and outer beauty through essays, poems and articles on self-esteem, shame, family, and self- acceptance.

7 thoughts on “In Words

  1. My Inner ChickMy Inner Chick Reply

    **What I want to say, lingers
    in a dark tunnel, echoing off
    velvet black, syllables fading.**

    Thank God you have your syllables, vocabulary, poetry, my darling, Julie…because
    they can’t help but flow from your silence for all of us. xx

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