I’ve always sought the safety of the back,
A quiet listener hidden in the pack.
For if I step ahead, exposed and clear,
Rejection is the phantom that I fear.
But do not think my silence means I’m cold,
Or that I have no stories to be told.
I crave the human touch, the spark, the tie,
But when I speak aloud, the thoughts run dry.
The spoken vowels stumble, warp, and blur,
Confounding all the truths that should occur.
But in the quiet dark, the ink runs free,
A bridge of words between the world and me.
So let me stand in shadows, out of sight,
And send my voice into the velvet night.
You’ll hear my heart, though I remain unseen
Connected through the lines that stand between.
