Mute

When I open my mouth,
what do you hear?

Are my words as mangled and
torn

as the heart
from which they come?

Do they sound as distant and
shallow

as the soul
or the mind
or the senses

that project them?

Tell me,
is my sentiment as thin
as my translucent skin

as wavering
as my softened spine

can you even tell
that I am crying
out
below the surface
steeping my lungs
slipping into the murky
shadows
deep
beyond
reach?