The Secret About Me

Sometimes I have thousands of words building within me

My words, they are sharp fragments of emotion piercing through my vocal chords
And when they're finally released, they come out in volumes
A novel for each fragment

Word upon word, line upon line
Trying to describe something I can't explain but only feel

Clarity often fails me because as I'm speaking (or furiously typing)
I'm discerning
It's a simultaneous process
To speak and write is to understand
Not to resolve

And that's the secret about me

When they're all out I'm empty
Not better but more clear

Often my words, they hang there,
Selfish, meaningless, ranting
Exposed

I wish I never shared them
Because hours, months, years later
I see how lost I was in my narrow context

But sometimes,
Just sometimes,
They bring meaning and depth
They form a bond from my heart to another empathetic one

It's that rare person to love me enough
To wade through the verbosity and
 Acknowledge the process while skimming over the confusion spewing forth
The person who leaves me thinking
Yes, that is exactly what I meant

My very own paraphraser

Afterwards I'll be quiet for a time
I never was the biggest talker
Introversion will overcome
For when the words are no longer necessary
Then the sorting, the healing, the changing can begin

There are many words I regret
A few simple ones I'll never rescind
And many more waiting to come forth

That's the secret about me