We were listening to jazz in the kitchen,
And I had something I wanted to say,
But you were so busy and I was too shy,
So I tucked it away for another day.
In sat on top of my pile,
Of things I always wanted to say but never did,
And of words and thoughts I didn’t,
That I pushed down until they were hid.
It will be covered soon,
By a new jumble of words that I wanted to say,
But I thought you were too busy and wouldn’t care,
And so soon the urge will go away.
Maybe one day soon,
The want to share and speak will go away,
And I won’t have to have an over a whelming pile,
Of things I didn’t say.
Instead my mind will an empty cavern,
All my thoughts are hidden away in the dark,
All because I had things I wanted to say,
To everyone to make a mark.
I doubt I will have such a pile,
In two years into the future,
And when I am silent people will say,
“I don’t know what is wrong with her.”
What’s wrong is that,
I had so many thoughts to share and words to say,
But everyone seemed too busy,
So I pushed them away.
I put them into a pile,
Of things I never ever said,
And the pile is growing bigger,
Inside of my head.