I’m dying to let you know how much I hurt

without saying so

and I wish I could express how much

my words ache

when I can’t pronounce their sharp edges

there is blood in my lungs and a creak in my bones,

and if you asked my heart, I’ve lived far too long

I have become frail; unholy and endless

and just a little too breathless to make you think

my laughter isn’t forced-

quiet enough for you to ask if something is wrong

I am sick.

my thoughts are poison;

I am turning to ash.

and I don’t know how to fix this.

You built sturdy barricades
around your chest so they
could never get to you
again;

Problem was, when they asked
to be given access to you,
you tore down the walls you’d built
with your bare hands

until your fingernails bled raw
and your heart burned hot with
the hope that your insides
would be safe this time.

You should know by now
not to let monsters
anywhere past
the moats you built
to keep them out.