when I talk and it sounds more like a scream
and my soul lay scattered on your bedroom floor
I will tremble as I hand you the bones I took out of my closet
but take them still

when I cry and you get sick of that high pitched whine
and my tears stain your favorite white shirt
I will shake as I hold your hand and tell you what hurts
but listen still

when I make loving me more of a chore than a game
and my panic attacks interrupt your sleep cycle
I will apologize as many times as I can until you fall back asleep
but listen still

I have talked to no one for three years now
and my hands have been uneasy since I was sixteen
I won't hold your hand until you promise
to hold mine back and to hear me