days are swinging past
and I wish I could finally
say to you the words
hiding under my pillows,
behind doors, and
scattered on the floors
I am walking on
I wish I could say to you
that my knees aren't
the only parts of
my body that
are hurting
that sometimes when
I sit in class I sometimes
stop and stare
and my throat starts to
constrict while my
tear ducts plan
their mutiny
I wish I could tell you
that I still remember
the sound of breaking
glass and I still
imagine the moment
of the glass kissing
the ground and, yes,
I still remember
how the shards
sparkled as I sweeped
the floors
I wish I could find a
better way of saying
these words to you
just like how perfectly
arranged the bones in
my body are
I wish I could say to
you that I fantasize
about telling you these
words that are
years overdue
and, no, I am not
okay, and, no,
you're wrong when
you said that I don't
care because I do
I just don't know
how to show it
and I also know
that maybe I'm
not making sense
because the real words
have morphed
themselves into
metaphors for having
been suppressed
for so long
and maybe I'm not
making any sense at all
but
the
bottomline
of this mess
is that I want
to say that I'm
sorry I wasn't
stronger for
you and me