The Wonder of Words and Fear

I try to talk. I mouth the words, but they won't leave my mouth. I am quiet, silent, and wondorous what would happen if the world of words I'm holding in my throat came out. A friend, perhaps, a partner of sorts, maybe a romantic fling or a long-time partner. If the mountainous letters were arranged masterfully by my mouth, would I be halting my loneliness by dealing out information as to what my cards were? The words want to escape me, but I grab them by the throats and force them to stay. What for? Fear, I suppose. I had let those words run rampant through the universe once before, and it caused me nothing but havoc and chaos. It's quite selfish, but, for some reason, I want them to go, but I need them to stay. One cause fear, the other causes comfort but at my despise. So I pick the one that protects me the most. And bathe in my despisedness