Unwritten

Unwritten

Perhaps

Someday

I will reach into the hot honeycomb

Of my unspoken words

Where they float sluggishly along the walls of glue

And perhaps I will grasp a few strings of phrases

The words clutching each other as I dangle them precariously

Dripping with their bothersome sludge

Their bones fused thickly together

All for the sake of poetry

And perhaps I will ring them out

Until all their meaning bleeds

And confine them carefully to some page

Where they will lay

Glaring red with the blood of my mind

Forever waiting to be read