the words fail me

the words fail me. 
sand in an hourglass, running out 
between my fingers. 

they flee 
like the monsters from Pandora's jar 
except Elpis leaves too 
unwilling to stay 
not for me. 
why would they, for me? 

sitting there, blank, unresponsive 
a cut-open corpse on a mortuary table. 
i lift my knife to slice them out 
maybe this cold heart can grant some relief. 

the words leave, 
but the words were mine first, 
blooming in saltwater and tender hands 
so let them go. 
they will come back. 

grind my bones and blood for ink 
my tongue will be the quill 
let me speak 
and i will show you 

words