When I was ten,
I had the tendency to raise my voice
A little too high;
I was afraid that if I didn’t,
Nobody would be bothered to listen to what I had to say.
But I was always silenced with a simple:
“Mind your indoor voice,”
Because my indoor voice was more easily ignored.

When I was thirteen,
I knew of a girl whose wrists were so eloquently lined with poetry
Because she didn’t dare make a sound,
But you see,
There was nothing beautiful about the verses
Written with the ink pouring from her veins.

When I was sixteen,
I came across a boy left sobbing
Because his sister dreamed of being as light as
The oxygen that no longer fills her lungs.
Tell me you could hear what you told her not to say.

When I was seventeen
My best friend fell in love
For the last time.
He could feel his heart climbing out of his chest,
And in foreign scroll it bore the name of a man;
For this he wanted to die.
Since when did falling in love become a ***** word?
I know you said to use my indoor voice but
Can you hear me now?

When I was eighteen
I learned that etiquette won’t banish the empty
Promises of a society
That doesn’t want to hear what I have to say;
A society that doesn’t want to hear the stories of the souls
They banished from their memories
Hiding behind the claims that there was nothing that could have been done
To save them.

No.
I will no longer use my “indoor voice.”
I will not quiet myself because you are afraid of the words I have spoken.
Even after my voice is confined to a hoarse whisper,
I will make you listen to the consequences of what you’ve chosen to ignore.
See, you’ve taken our bodies and turned them into time bombs,
And we shouldn’t be the only ones forced to listen as they scream:
Three. He told you that he couldn’t breathe,
And you said it was because he never even tried.
Two. It’s getting harder to breathe.
Can you hear me?
One. I promise,
I tried.

You called again last night
As you have
Every night before,
And I felt your hand brush against mine
As if it slithered through the aging wires
Of our telephones;
Despite the countless miles
Between us
To feel the warmth of my love
Once more.

Did no one think to tell you,
Darling,
That my love has since gone cold?
Did they think to tell you that the miles have become
But mere symbols
Of the distance between my heart and yours?
Did no one bother reminding you,
Lover,
That your hand touched many others
In the dead of the night
When it promised to come home to mine
And that I cannot help but wonder
If those hands miss yours,
Like mine before them,
Even when I knew about what you did?

You asked if we could talk
And I couldn’t help but remember that
Seven months ago I made that plea my own;
This time,
For you,
It’s nothing more than borrowed words.

I say we forget the smalltalk,
Sweetheart;
The pointless conversation about our mothers and
The way you can never decide between a striped
And a plaid shirt.
Forget about the weather, and
My love of the stars
Because you never really cared for them anyway
And I want to know how it felt
To walk away from
The person you pretended to love.

I want to know if you boasted
When you told everyone
About the silly little girl back home;
The one who jumped at her own shadow,
Or the one that didn’t recognize the girl in the mirror
Looking back at her,
And even the girl you made feel worthwhile
Despite her visions of never quite being good enough
For the world she so desperately wanted to love.

I want to know if you told them about
Every fear;
Every flaw that I have ever dared to wear
Because it seemed that nothing else could fit quite right
And it’s easier anyway to settle with
Draping insecurity across your back
When you find that confidence just doesn’t come in your size.

I want to know if you thought of me,
Honey,
When you took her out to tea and
She always chose my favourite.
Or if you ever thought that maybe you shouldn’t
Take her to bed with you.
Not because you’re afraid that I might find out
But because three hours away I was dreaming about you
And how could you let yourself become
One of my greatest nightmares?

I want to know if your heart broke,
Even a little,
When you saw me crying at
The place where we first met;
The place where I first told you I loved you;
The place where I finally let go of your hand
And in it’s place I put my own.

You’ll call again tomorrow,
Darling,
In a drunken haze your heart will whisper my name
As clumsily as your mouth does.
I’ll feel your hand brush against mine;
I always do,
And while your voice echoes through the aging wires
Of our telephones,
Whispering tentative absurdities, like
“For old times’ sake”
Or
“I never meant for us to be like this.”
I’ll find the strength to pull away my hand
And put down the phone.
You see,
No more do I long for the touch of a ghost
Or the words of a boy who loved me even less than
I could ever love myself.

Don't you dare try to convince me that
You taught me how to fly when
You were the one who pushed me
Over the edge.
Before you,
I was afraid of heights and
Even then I didn't stop falling after
I realized you would never be there to catch me.