Inside me

I am constantly eating my words.
Words which I wish I could say to another
Words that show how I truly feel.
I eat them for how can my words show you
What colours I hear in beautiful songs,
The feeling that dwells in my chest, that pulls my heart like a dead weight
Or else sends it floating into the atmosphere
To dance with the moon.

I eat them for I am afraid.
Afraid that what I say will fall short,
Will fail.
So I keep them, stored inside me.
Where the sweetness of their intonation ferments
Bubbling, seeping into the cavity within my chest, creeping into my veins
Filling me
Until I can stand it no longer
And out they will spill
Sweeping my heart along with its wave
Intoxicating my senses
Filling my head and heart with light and lightheadedness.

And I'll find myself singing to street corners
My fingertips stained the same colour as the sky
Tattooing the words of my heart on the skin of the trees I find God in.
Painting my prose onto the sunrise
My scripture onto the bones of those long gone
With my bare hands, I attempt to fill the mountains with all the words my lungs demand.
Until all the world that I know surrounds me with the words I tried to swallow
And inside me is empty once more.