Speaking

He'd drown his words with feeling, 

Rosy cheeks bursting with color and volume

Speaking with such eloquence that she couldn't help

But hear, but listen closer to the rainbow of sounds

That dripped from his mouth every time he spoke, 

As if each word was a new treasure.

She took more time to speak, stuttering

Her words smoked and expired, like coals of a fire

That burned out long ago. 

She watched longingly as his friends gathered around him, wondering

If she could ever be so amazing, so radiant. 

Every time she tried to approach him, her feet were made of lead

And she dragged them along, each word a new burden

For each of them to bear. She didn't prepare a script, 

But spoke the words that had gathered up in her throat

In all the previous months, and she choked them out

As he watched, appalled.

He thought so much of his words; they were all he had

And to him, she was less than human, a flat character 

Who lived in the darkness, not to be thought much of. 

Yet, one time, she seemed almost angelic 

And he watched her, as she walked up to him, head held high

And spoke all the words he wish he could say, 

Spoke words that sounded to him quite impossible, and made

The rainbows of his voice turned to gray clouds.

It'd make him wonder if he could ever have the courage

To speak the truth, without a care of who was listening.