Empty mouth

[butterflydreaming]

 Didn't I used to speak that language? Excited in the presence of something that I think can't be real, I shape a reply, but I have no voice. My words will be wrong, unwanted. I am trained to silence. That language is dormant and buried in salt. I will struggle for hours after, searching for the lost cadence. I am a pretender. Not my accent. Mimic.

And because I don't remember how to say, "don't go when I have just found you," I have no power to make a sound.