there are things I've written that I cannot share with the world,
and they are stabbing at my soul like swords.
it makes me want to go off like a gun.
let them spill from my lips as I share some.
tell secrets, both mine and yours,
until I finally somehow learn
my lesson in keeping quiet
and keeping things to my chest, but I suck at it.
I want to explode with all the words I shouldn't say.
want to make a sweet thing rotten, just so I feel okay.
it's selfish, I know. I know I should keep practicing silence,
but I've never been one to ignore my internal violence.
I share and overshare then share some more
until my loved ones want to slam shut the door
to my trust. keep me at arm's length.
this is testing my strength.
I try to keep safe your heart you opened to me so graciously,
but I want to express all the ways it makes me feel; lovely.
it's mine as much as it is yours, but now it belongs to no one.
nothing left here to own.
maybe I could spill, just a bit, just a little.
I don't want to betray our comradery, already so fragile,
but I ache for prying open my own heart.
spilling myself into open air and ink on pages, even if it tears us apart.
I'm so selfish, narcissistic, self-righteous, annoying.
shut up! no one cares! and those who do, can see you betraying
them. it's why you're alone. stay lonely.
it's safer here. safer than loved and lively.
no one to protect except myself. no secrets to keep.
don't worry, I'll just disappear instead of being tempted to peep.