To Settle With My Nerves Poem by Malory Joyce

I talk but im not talking
just a rumbling
of my words I organized
yesterdsay in my head,
climbing out,
holding onto the edge of my lips.

I would cover my mouth
but at the moment
my hands are occupied
on the zipper of my sweater
where I told them
to make settlement with my nerves.

I should have wrote my notes
onto the hand
than staring at these photographs,
photographs are blank.
I would do better repeating,
its hard remembering.

If I say what I am thinking,
what If I say too much,
and if I say nothing at all,
is that my chance lost,
and his chance to walk away,
I wonder what I had.