Speak

I think your hands speak louder than your words which you

eras— fuck, um, sorry. I'll start saying that again.

Your hands fold into each other, bitten nails pressing into the skin between your pointer fingers and your thumbs, pushing pushing pushing

all the words you can't say back into your skin as you smile nervously at me

s

t tutter tering while your hands eloquently narrate your emotions

while all the uncertainty and pain and truths are bitten off your tongue

you give a sugarcoat to the speech you memorized while your hands dance, naked.