I know what it's like to hide.
I know what it's like to keep things quiet, safe, and still.
I know what it's like to not say the thing I want to say.
I know that fear.
That raw, aching possibility that things are not okay.
The fear you'll think I'm weird.
The fear you'll think I'm crazy.
The fear you won't love me the way I think you do now.
I learned to be quiet because it was easier.
Well, it used to be easier.
Now, the stories come rolling out.
Insistent. So insistent.
The words fly from my mouth before I can tame them or temper them.
Before I can dress them in prettier phrases.
(And why would I?)
I can see your story too.
I can see how you dance around its corners.
You show me the patterns, its shape, and how it fits on you.
You show me the way it should look to others.
You show me the reflection of others.
You show me just enough.
But it's not everything.
Let it out.
Tell me everything.
I want to write
until the spaces between the words
reveal the answers
I can’t seem to keep alive
in a jar
no matter how many holes
i poke in the top
no matter how much time I give them
no matter how many excuses I whisper.
into the land where silence
I want to be still.
I want to be something more
than what I show everyone else
when my eyes open
when I arrive
This life used to be mine,
this song used to sound like me,
and I wonder where I am
whether this shell will crack
I want to reach out and find
free from the feeling that
everything is too close
and the feeling
that I am too far
I want to rest inside myself
I want to remember who I am
when I wake up
and it is almost dawn.