What Can't Be Said

It's there,
Just below the surface,
Like you always knew it would be.
Waiting for its chance.

The best story you'll ever tell,
The story you must tell,
The story you can't bring yourself to write.

You won't forget,
You know that,
His face is as vivid as it ever was.
But the pen can't touch the paper.

Betrayal lingers in the air,
And you know that for the reader to cry,
The author must cry.
For the reader to be haunted, you must give in.
The reflections in the mirror make you retch.

It's still there,
Building inside you, a volcano
Until one day, it will spill over,
Leaving destruction in its path.

You can't write it yet.

One day.