Not Enough

words fail, when they
should say everything.

but the blank page
intimidates the tender heart.

the ink wants to glide,
but the mind holds tight,

afraid of what the
consequence might be

if, when set free, the
words would mean more

to the heart, the mind
who wrote them, than

to the eye they’re given
to. an uneven distribution,

a fear of them being
too much. or worse—

they won’t ever be enough.