My breath is caught in my throat.

It holds back a scream so guttural that if it were to escape it would echo in the mouths of caves halfway across the country.

It keeps in the words that I see tattooed on the backs of my eyelids as they repeat over and over, the ones that get twisted if I focus on them too hard.

It sits next to my heart, wedging itself more tightly the faster it beats as knives twist in the core of my body.

One day it will let go.

One day I will too.

The air will rush out of my lungs for hours forming the words that demand only to be shouted from the highest places my legs can carry me to. And the tears will stream down my cheeks making puddles at my feet reflecting the image of the upside down trees I have climbed to the highest branches of.

And once all the air is gone I’ll float back down, I’ll stare at the stars for hours, thinking just how small the words were the were my whole being, how small my tears compared to the oceans I will cross before I settle somewhere new.

One day I will go.

One day you will too.