This Sickness

Every once in a while my heart gets clogged with words and I can’t say what I need to. I’ve been waking up swallowing blood; my teeth pink like wax paper. I wonder sometimes how anyone could still want to kiss me; this quiet girl with all her poetry who has never said anything; this coward who has broken all her own fingers just to buy herself some time. I don’t want to say it, but my heart aches with tomes of more – always more – just out of reach. I don’t want to say it… that sometimes I’m still scared this will be all that’s left of me

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