5 Minutes. Go:
There are things I can never ask you. They sit at the back of my throat, like the breathe I save, for the moments I'm drowning. Today, it cleared it's throat, the questions, as if to say "Remember me? I'm not going anywhere."
The opposite of comforting. Not like companionship is meant to be.
And these things I can never ask you, they have grown comfortable. They use my throat as a fireplace. When our conversations heat, it's time for s'mores. And, with every answer you volunteer, the questions multiply.
Jazz squares. I'm afraid to stand in one place. It's not safe here yet.