Once upon a silence

. . . dot, dot, dot. . . 

...Words are strangers to me... enemies...

Aware of what has to be said, my fingers do not manage to type.

 Can I trust my printer, to carry the message through?

day in 

day out... 

16 days... and it's done...

whenever will certainty strike?

. . . dot, dot, dot. . .

The room remains in a deafening silence. The endless buzz of an overworked computer is entrancing. 

A cold drop of vanity runs through my back, freezing down to my bones. 

. . . dot, dot, dot. . .

...The words not said,  hold more power than those shout out loud...