My secrets are shards of metal, collecting in my chest.
The edges are jagged and sharp.
They slice away at me with every breath.
You're like a magnet, one look and they come to you.
They're drawn to the surface with a single look from your face.
I can't keep them in.
They shred my throat as I try to swallow them down.
They tear away at my inner cheeks as they spill out of my mouth.
The blood pools red beneath us as you ask and the shards fall out in answer.
Telling you my stories is tearing me apart.
But I knew they would end me, and better they kill me quickly while they spill than kill me slowly while they settle in my heart.
A space for me to empty my brain of all the poems, letters, and half-finished stories that swirl around in my head all day.
Friday, May 12, 2017
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