This is bad, part ii

Cornering a coward and forcing me to speak will only leave a 
Dumb mute, burning like a sinner and eyes tracking some fly 
Darting from your honest face and cruel lips. I keep telling myself 
This is bad ((internal screaming)) I am trying to keep my voice
Occupied so it does not say what I will regret. If it were not so 
Traitorous I would not have to clasp my hands over my mouth to
Catch the words and pull them back by their leashes 
(Unruly excitable creatures rushing to greet you) or by their hair 
(As I would my worst enemy). We are playing no take back and the
Games are in your favour. I am so full with the tangled yarn of
Feelings I have to unravel, fingerless, that it hurts to 
Swallow the only words I want to say to you. (This is so 
Godamn bad but what am I to do.) 

The coward loves in the only way possible, tossing around in a
Purgatory of sleeplessness longing for the what if’s and the 
Best cases in my mind. I could bite my tongue and drown 
Every confessions in crimson and then it would remain indecipherable.
Then, I could take the mess that is my stuttering scraps of heart (this
Is what you do to me) to my grave and you can live on ignorant and
Gradually letting pieces of me go to find a happiness you deserve. I could 
Bite my tongue off if the words slipped out, end the humiliation 
Of having to talk about this. The coward’s death. Every solution 
Ends in violence 
(I mentally pummel these feelings 
Till their teeth fall in and can only garble noises that I keep muffled 
In a secret box and swallowed its fat golden key). If not violence, 

How else can you teach me to gently 
Press those words back and seal my lips? How
Do I keep my mind from wondering towards you
And the bright warm house in this dead of winter? 
How can I finally say the right things again?