I Can't Face You

Nonsense words spit as endless giggles echo,
there are not me, but a nervous habit.
As my brain tries to contemplate,
gibberish recycles in my dry mouth.
My brain can speak eloquently,
but all is lost when translation
hits my slow mouth.
With the nervous habit you see,
an inane face combines it all.
Then when we part,
my solemn face appears
as I walk away marking half-moons
into my sorry palms.