What I could tell you

I wish I could tell you. Oh, what I could tell you- if only I could.

All the jumbled words I have mangled in my mind, never letting them out - bottling them up inside hoping for them to quiet and die.

The confessions I harbor within myself waiting for a peak through the curtain. The fabric will wear, soon it will bear thin and the light will breakthrough.

But oh, how I wish I could come to you- tell you in full confidence what beats against the walls inside of me. It scares me to think you will turn it against me- tell me I am to blame. Turn your back to me in a cold utterance and tell me "You are no longer my problem."

I tell you not what bounces around and screams at me in the stupidity of my own echoes for I'm terrified you will leave, bothered by the mess I make, the mess I am.

I utter not what I feel, not what shouts in the cavernous range of my mind for I've been met with anger and silence.

But still- I wish I could tell you. Oh, what I could tell you- if only I could.

The words left to fizzle in silence, the dull ache and sting left in their wake. Like a residual wave- only to remind me what is left to fester will ferment to poison. The poison will seep and drip, contaminating all it touches.

Oh, what I could tell you if only letting go of the words were that easy. But each and every time I start to let the rope slip I am met with an impenetrable wall- taller than I and still ever-growing.

My hands- battered and bruised, blistered and marred from the past repetition of slipping and pulling. Gripping so tight my skin raw from the tension just to reel everything back in.

I wish it were easy to let go- easy for me. To feel safe, to feel at home, to feel wanted, to feel enough- To let my voice speak for me the words kept in silence. For the fuzzy noise to disappear rather than myself.

Oh, what I could tell you if only letting go of the words were that easy. The confessions I harbor within myself waiting for a peak in the murky depths. The smog will clear, soon it will bear thin and the light will breakthrough. But still- I wish I could tell you. Oh, what I could tell you- if only I could.

The shouting in the cavernous range of my mind will die out before it sees the open end. Forever the echoes ring out, bouncing back and forth- Never articulate but concise and deadly.

I wish I did not suffer in silence, I wish I could tumble and tear the fortress around me. It is not just the cavernous shouting but the subtly sweet song that plays every so often. The temptation to give in to it and bare my soul to your compassion.

I wish I could tell you. Oh, what I could you- if only I could.

But the genuine part of me has been met with door slams, silence, anger, and departures. So it will stay nestled in its safe space- shrouded by the murky depths and the echoing fuzzy noise.

I wish I could tell you. What I could you- if only I could. All the jumbled voices I have mangled in my mind, never letting them out - bottling them up inside hoping for them to quiet. The words and voices left to fizzle in silence, the dull ache and twisting left in their wake. Like a residual wave- only to remind me what is left to fester.

Only to remind me- I wish I could tell you. Oh, what I could you- if only I could.