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.