Red Ink Commitment

For some reason I’m unable to let those words
Fall from my mouth, I can’t seem to
Say them out loud, because once I do
They become permanent, tangible.
And that kind of commitment leaves me feeling
Tense and unsettled.
Making me nervous and keeping those words
Imperviously hidden and confined in my mouth.
I’m still writing my grocery lists with pencil lead.
What if I decide I want apples, not oranges?
Do I even own a pen? I doubt it.
But I chose to confess my secrets regardless.
Writing with an apathetic pen, red ink bled
And stained every blank page I had left.
Telling her everything, admitting all I’d done and
Confirming the lack of equanimity she’d known.
But to my surprise,
Instead of accepting my letter as permanence
Like I was expecting and dreaded, she passed
Me a pencil saying, "Rewrite it." and so I did.
But I should’ve handed her back that pencil and
Kept my letter as it was written. Honestly, I think
Part of me wanted that letter less eternal,
What if one day I decided the words I’d written
Were no longer desired, what if I changed my
Mind and needed that door left, open?
Forever non-committed, writing with indecisive
Pencil lead and existing entirely uncertain.
Only, this time feels different and I think I’m almost
Close to half-way, slightly more than slightly –
[ Positive. ]
I’m nearly sure I’m in this with red ink, I’m knees
Deep and I’m moderately confident I won’t need to
Erase a single thing,
Maybe.