I would tell you...

I would tell you what was wrong
if I didn't believe you would tell me 
why I was wrong for feeling like 
something is wrong.
I would explain my feelings
if I didn't believe you would offer
explanations for why what I feel
shouldn't be felt.
I would break my silence 
if I didn't believe you would dismiss
my words, concluding there is 
no reason to talk about it.


Therefore-- 


I maintain my silence out of foresight.
I hold my tongue out of prudence.
I squash my feelings to keep the peace.
And it's not because I can't express myself,
or don't want to.
And it's not because I can't find the words,
I have them in abundance.
I have played with words enough to 
know their value,
feel their power,
respect their potential.
I feel the finely honed edges of my verbs,
the heat of my nouns,
the heft of my adverbs and adjectives,
the venom of my expletives.
I know the damage I can do with my words.


Yet I stay silent.


Because if I were to speak,
and you disrespectfully wielded your words at me,
minimized my thoughts, opinions and feelings,
chopped and crushed them with dismissing words,
buried and suppressed them with your words,


well...
it would be game on.
And while you use your syllables without skills,
I have honed to a craft the use of my verbal arsenal.


So I stay silent.
Because some damage can not be undone.