Until we say it out loud: is it true, is it valid?
Or just a thought meandering through mazes of the brain,
making no sense? And let’s call it art if it shows up anyway,
through blurred pixels and crummy rhyme. By instrumental music.
Until thoughts have a voice, no one can argue their rights to exist.
I have said many words to you that never left my mind.
They went in opposite directions, following moods
and then rested in dark gates of the cervix.
They are all true although they never saw the light of day.
You just don’t know them. And I won’t say them out loud.