I have a problem with
keeping my own secrets.
I don’t know how to
stop talking.

There are words
we should reserve
just for ourselves
and I can’t quiet
myself long
enough to remember that.

It scares me to think
that there is nothing
left for me.

I pull the words
out of myself
and then  wonder why
it makes me so sad.

It’s my own little
double standard.

My will power
runs low
and I can’t hold on.

It scares me to think
that there is nothing
I haven’t said.

It scares me to think
that everyone knows
what I’m about to say
before I say it.

I’ve always wanted to be
hard to read.
But I open my mouth
and I read myself.

My secrets
are rarely
serious.
They're never
even very
exciting,
but they are mine.

I hope one
day there is something
I take with me
when I’m gone.

I hope one day
there is something left
for me.

A sentence,
even a few words
that even God
doesn’t know.

Because you know
what Alexis,
it's nobody's
*******
business.