I worry about the words I don’t use.

I worry about the words I don’t use.

Those ignored

Erased

Wiped off the page

Brushed away from the paper

Shaken from the ends of my fingers

Kicked under the bed

Left to gather dust

Wrapped in furballs

To gradually break down

Letter by letter

An incomprehensible jumble

An alphabet soup

Sticky and stinky.

Dirty little secrets

Hidden away

Filthy and grubby

Lost and derelict

Denied the light of day

Verbal garbage

Festering

Bloated in syntax

Fomenting insurrection

Dying to be read.

Indignant little phrases

Bittersweet things

Unsung heroes of another story

The children of a lesser deity

Broken before they were formed

Forgotten before their worth

Was realised.

I wonder,

Was I too quick

To suck the meat

From their bones

Too eager

To strip them naked

Pair them down

Sharpen their meaning.

Honing each sentence

Until it reached a point

Worth underlining,

Moving on

Too soon

Before every word was writ.