My mouth remains closed
for fear of
what will come out
when it is opened.
my silence says that
there is nothing to say
worth saying,
and everything is fine
that needs to be.
but my silence lies.
my silence makes me
the victim, and
my confession would
give me the strength
of a survivor.
but maybe i don’t want
to survive.
maybe that kind of
survival hurts too much.
my silence says that
there is nothing to say
worth saying.
my silence lies.
