i wish sometimes that i could
that i would
talk to myself in the mirror

i wish sometimes that i could

ask what it’s like to

have a conversation with myself
and get a straight answer.

i’d ask what the words mean
when i can’t make them work

except that they work

they make me bleed

unless my tongue stays tied
it unknots my stomach
it cauterizes
the self inflicted

words

i can’t hide them
from myself

how do you tell yourself
it’s enough to be enough or

okay, okay
i’m not okay

how do you look at yourself
and know that
the wounds
you carry with you

are self inflicted

are your words