I wonder what it would be like to craft conversations like beautiful pieces of art,
Each word carefully chosen and individually placed exactly where it belongs.
I will leave each social situation unfazed,
No fear or confusion left to haunt me at night because surely nothing will be left unsaid.
My words will sound as intentional as I always intend them to be,
Drawing people in and then making them want to stay just for a chance of a little more.
Crowds will hold on to every sound like even the tiny breaths escaping my lips matter,
Even if not a single syllable it makes a difference in the end.
At least I could fall sleep at night,
Maybe I could understand the definition of being confident one time.
Instead I am clumsy and I am inconsistent,
Every word is an unexpected stranger hiding in the unreachable crevices of my mind.
Pretty words do not glide out of my lips,
But they fall and tumble and awkwardly try to stand up.
They are not strong enough on their own,
Let alone able to support the weight of any others that should surround them.
But worse than that is when they start to silently argue,
None of them able to agree on who has to leave the place they’ve grown comfortable in.
So they’re all too shy to help me,
Stepping on each other’s toes while they fumble for their individual hiding places.
Once again I am left speechless,
Trying to form a single sentence simply so I can say I did not fail today.