Poetry

Chatterbox

 

Gifted for my age until I started talking

Fleeting obsessions that meant everything to me but nothing to anybody 

Stop talking, nobody likes it when you’re loud

So then I went quiet 

And listened 

Just listened

Listening as words bounced at the dinner table

The words, though, just flew by aimlessly as I repeated my own words in my mind like a mantra 

When it was finally my turn the words have already left without a trace

The mantra wasn’t enough

At least I wouldn’t be the chatterbox

 

I started sitting quietly in school

Stealing glances at the shifting strangers near me throughout the years

Itching to finally let the dam of words loose

Instead, I opted to patch the cracks 

The dam couldn’t break

I couldn’t be the chatterbox