What are my words?

My words are letters on a page,

Of small strokes

And wavered lines,

Of deleted sentences

And invisible wishes.

My words are scrambled thoughts,

Of stagnant conversation

And wistful understanding,

Of lost meaning

And burning regret.

My words are my ideas.

My desires. 

Of my wishes for the world,

And how I might change it.

If only I had the chance,

If only I had the courage.

My words are my fears.

Of what others will think 

And what they might say.

Of stormy waves

That crash inside of my skull,

An endless typhoon

Of the worst parts of myself.

The deepest,

Most painful,

Recesses of my mind.

But what are my words without me?

Your words can’t be mine,

And mine can’t be yours.

I can’t see the world through your eyes,

No matter how much I dream

And how close we become.

We can breathe the same air,

But I can never speak your words.

There are things that only you can think,

That only you can say,

That only you can do.

What are my words?

Well,

They are the only pieces of myself 

That are ever, truly 

Mine.