Untitled (Because I Wasn’t Allowed to Finish My Sentence)
I start with “I feel\"
and someone else finishes it for me.
You ask why I keep things to myself—
but I ask,
have you ever listened to me?
EVER?
Every time I try to share,
I\'m cut.
My words have now learned
to swallow themselves,
quietly.
Reflex, not resistance.
And sometimes,
I wonder—
if I truly needed you,
would you still do this to me?
Sometimes I feel
it would hurt less
to have a knife strike my throat
than to watch
your eyes roll
every time I try to speak.
REBELLIOUS SOUL.