Folded Neatly

 I keep a stack of words neatly fold in a secret drawer. Some nights my mind travels backward through a Rolodex of faces that each tell stories of beauty turned to loss. I open this drawer of old words and I carefully unfold a few, draping them casually over my heart. My hand scoops up

a small pile of them from nearly 6 years ago and I finger them around in my palm.  Some of these words fell from silhouettes that retreated back to the shadows in which they were spoken. Some of these words were spoken by warriors and men of honor, who have now since forsaken
them.  Some of these words were delivered by wise men, and they were purposed with mending the soul. Yet here they sit,mixed and mashed together in this old drawer. These beautiful, damned words.  Some of them were from men, who became children in their pursuit of lusts. Some of these were from the lips of gracious women who carried themselves with poise and stature before they too betrayed these forgotten words.  In this old drawer of dust laden words are the utterances of those few paupers and beggars and thieves and liars, who choked out syllables in the midst of struggles and then BECAME something. They yearned for something. The strove for something more than what they were, and now, the ones still around are more
careful with their speeches. Their verbs are laced with caution. Their adjectives shimmer with pause.

I keep a stack of words in a hidden drawer, and some nights I dress my heart with their memories.  The recollection of the words that I have given that chafed my character or chapped another’s pride.  Words formed in dreams spelled out warnings for two then friends who were disgusted at the thought that they could ever, that they would ever, fall into such traps. Unspoken words congest me.  I cough on their accuracy, and a few bring me to fever but I do not breathe them. I am finding such little use for a voice these days in a world that is unable to listen.

I shall save these words safe in store, folded neatly in a
private drawer.