Soundless Confession

I am confessing.

I am louder when
my mouth is locked,
when my tongue
is still and numb—
a willing prisoner
inside the jail of
sharp, tough teeth
guarded by a pair
of soft, stubborn lips
firm to never let
a single word escape.

I am confessing.

My throat and
vocal chord are as
parched as Sahara
in blazing September,
yet I need not
any monsoon rain.
This pen will carry
the voice unheard and hiding.
Never will it dry even when
no one’s listening.

I am confessing.
Read. Don’t listen.

©2018 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Photo via Unsplash

In response to dVerse Sounds of Silence.