For the Daily Prompt, “conveyor.”
Somehow, it never gets across;
Somehow, my words are always lost;
Somehow, even the lack thereof
Never seems to express enough.
Every hint on you is lost;
Every word you say — it costs.
Every time you say those words
You turn my blood to ice and curds.
You know that I can’t tell the truth;
My feelings have been never couth.
You know that I can never tell
The things my mind seems on to dwell.
You must be a masochist
To ask a thing such as this.
I’m trying to spare you from my pain:
Please, don’t ask me to explain.