The Performance

The words are just there,
Sitting right on the tip of my tongue
And stretching up to be let out,
Like toddlers wanting to be carried.
They sit hunched over
Somewhere at the back of my head,
Like trolls on Twitter looking for their next victim,
When I’m in the middle of a conversation
In which it’s the perfect time to say it, loud.
From my rib cage they hang loose,
Like sloths
Lazing and waiting,
Knowing today isn’t the day for opening up.
Behind kidneys they loiter
Like wayward fae,
Kicking sharp toes in remin...