Good Morning Poetry

Bottles

“Are you okay?”

Yes.

No.

“What’s wrong?”

Nothing.

Everything.

“Is there anything you want to tell me?”

No, it’s all good.

Yes, I just wish you’d listen.

those words leave my lips

without me thinking

I instantly regret them but

I can’t just repave the road of dishonesty

I can’t rewind and tell them how I’m really feeling

it’s too big of a risk

to risk them laughing

or shrugging

“that’s not important”

or

“just get over it”

what they don’t understand

is that I can’t

I can’t just

“get over it”

I don’t appreciate you telling me

how I should feel

but of course I never say this

they’ll never understand

so when they ask

“why don’t you ever tell me what’s wrong?”

I’ll say because nothing’s wrong

I’ll hold my tongue, lying through my

clenched teeth

because really,

there are ten thousand things

I have to say

the sentences, the stories, the truth

beating in my heart,

pumping through my veins

scratched in my soul

I scratch words

on the walls

scream

my words are weighed down

by fear and self-hatred

my mouth is sewn shut

I can’t speak

they don’t understand

they won’t believe

that I am a mute

when it comes to emotions

or what I really feel

or what I really believe

I wrap myself in dishonesty and lies

because I know it’s easier for them to understand

maybe it’s easier for me

in a way

even though I’m bursting at the seams

cracking as the words I refuse to say eat me up

devouring my insides and my happiness and maybe even my sanity

but it’s easier for me to keep my mouth shut

it’s what I’m used to

some people say it’s not good to bottle up your feelings

well, let me tell you

I have shelves

and shelves

and shelves

of bottles

and bottles

and bottles

of feelings

lined up inside me

I paint on a fake smile

while my heart passes around those bottles

“ninety-nine bottles of fear on the wall”

“ninety-nine bottles of fear”

“take one down”

“pass it around”

“ninety-eight bottles of fear on the wall”

in those bottles,

swirling

is every single thing

I have ever wanted to say to anyone ever

you can see the words clear through the glass

all the things I’ve ever wanted

to say

bottled up

sometimes I really wish I could just

break them

scream at the top of my lungs

instead of occasionally throwing one out into the sea

hoping it will wind up on someone’s shore

and they’ll get the message

and help me

take me in their arms and listen

break the stitches over my mouth

break those bottles

even if there’s nothing they can do about it

just

listen

to

me.

but that will never happen.

people are too blind

to see that bottle

floating out on the waves

trying to reach them

an S.O.S.

that no one

will ever

hear.

so instead I lock myself inside my thoughts

my “I’m okay’s”

my “I’m fine’s”

my “Nothing’s wrong’s”

disappearing further and further inside myself

covered by a shell of lies

holding my bottles in my arms

wanting so badly

for them to break

so I can say

everything I’ve ever wanted to say

maybe the reason

I so often wear

a necklace with a key around my neck

is so that one day

maybe

one day

someone can unlock me.