not just words

some words fall out
of my mouth
or get written through these
curled hands
that surprise me
as well her.
untethered by
reason,
they are careless balloons
sent aloft.
I cringe
at the thought of causing
anyone
pain, whether friend or
stranger.
at times I slip,
and the sound
of my voice
is heard,
the ink hardly dry,
as to what I've written,
or said.