Sometimes I hold my breath
And squeeze and squeeze until there’s nothing left
To fight the empty nothingness
And create some of it myself
Because cuts turn to scars and scars turn to questions and permanent problems that never go away
To let go means to bare open
All of a lengthy list of insecurities and poor decisions
That I am in the making
So I’m quiet until confident
But falsely secure
In who my words and lips reach
Out to anyone and everyone I meet
Hoping
But instead blindly trusting each and every one to stay
Away they push
Not with passion but
The gentle turn of a page