To be by Choice

Choices

That's what people always say you have.

Choices are questions.

Choices are ultimatums.

Choices are verbalized cop outs by those around you.

When you're by yourself, that's supposed to be a choice too.

I didn't choose this.

I don't even want it.

It's not my language.

Talking is my language.

Hugging is my language.

Words are my language.

Words spoke out loud.

I love you. I need you. I want you.

Those aren't choices to me.

They are statements. In my language.

Bridge the gap.  Get out of your boat and float in words.

Maybe then I'll choose.

Because then I have more than what everyone else has.

Your silence is deafening.