Like the struggling cries behind teeth
from Anderson’s Speak. It’s funny,
how the words get caught in the back
of your brain while you get hammered
from every direction because no one knows
what eats you out of your skin at night.
People you love look at you like they’ve known
you all along, but if they did, they wouldn’t
be looking at you at all. You don’t tell in fear
of what would happen to the life you’ve built
around the omissions. You look at the mirror
and see a mono-toned shapeless face looking
for a way around the truth. There is no way.
Just pull the covers over your head and block out
the light the rest of the world will bask in.
One day someone will come along with shears
and snip the thread that weaves its bars between
your shaking lips – the world will not fall
at the sound of your voice. Let go – speak.