In Saying

Just words. That is what I'll speak when asked for a secret, or in breaking a promise. That's all I could hope to find in asking questions; what I'll have to articulate in asking it. I'm lost for words, just words, and when mouths are open, nothingness comes out. I've seen empty space meaning more than I can portray with words, just words, but imagine what could be done with consonants, vowels; small affirmations not built to be sturdy, steady, broken or lost.  Let's balance on syllables, conceive quotations still silent. I want definiteness; I practice speeches for causes as people. An apology for forgiveness; prayer for pride saved. A lecturing lot of chosen words to take selected enemy from where they are and slamming them into dirt or lower, covering them with shards, fragments of reality to cut and bruise. There are speeches to give off hope, pieces of uplifting clauses clumsily stuttered together; but biting bits of reality tangible and comforting. None of this is includes that which I'll say, or help to recite these constantly changing words that I can't locate to relay, pin down, seize sure hold of. Questions should only come from people wanting answers, and several uncertainties later, I'll put forth questions myself. I want the satisfaction of simple words to throw about, conviction, and certitude in saying just words