Everything shining in this house is dull,
singing lackluster serenades -
I hide you in my phone
snuggled warm in the battery.

Can you speak my riddles?
A language I've created to cover myself
and keep the teeth at bay, keep my fingers warm
when I’m shivering throughout.

I say you're locked in a cell
when I'm the one behind cellophane,
suffocating without a way to cut a hole
just so I can breathe.

I tie my noose
just a little
bit
tighter
every *******
day
just so I can play pretend
like everyone has asked of me because I am:

the girl who is always good
the girl who is notoriously ******* herself
the girl who gives until she has nothing left
the girl who hides behind the glass
until there isn't a breath left.

But, I have found you,
locked in an old shoe box, shimmering,
calling me like a moth to a candle's flame
and I can't resist, I can't resist
because giving so much has left me weak and I am still speaking in circles,
running myself through the gauntlet,
coming up with excuse after excuse after excuse.

I locked you, warm and safe,
between lithium ions and silicon casing
until I can hold you, once again,
between my fingers and
let you spell out everything I am unable to
say.