for as long as I can remember
people have told me I'm poor at conveying my feelings,
they have told me I'm poor at expressing myself through words
             awful at confessions
                   ******* at honesty

my room is always messy
and I think my parents forgot to teach me the important things,
like keeping my room clean
and how to love people.

so now, I can't help but laugh at the hidden irony
that I scribble words in secret
about things that they never knew
                          will never know
happened

I doubt they ever imagined I would
write pages about
that play I did when I was eight
in the hand-me-down costume
and handmade hat
and how my best friends mother was in the audience, but not my own.

So, maybe you don't know how important it is
that I have to wait until you are asleep
to write you messages about how I feel about you

but you don't know
when you're in the shadows sleeping peacefully
that I'm trying to craft my emotions
into badly worded poetry
and I'm so, so sorry I'll never be able to show you