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
God damn
business.