I Just Want to Talk

I don’t need answers tonight,

I don’t need advice,

I just need words,

falling out of me like rain on empty streets.

I want to talk

because silence feels too heavy,

because my chest is a room

with no windows,

and every breath echoes against the walls.

I want to say things

without being measured,

without being fixed—

just released,

like birds flying from a cage,

even if their wings are still broken.

Sometimes I don’t even know

what I’m trying to say—

it’s not a story,

it’s not a question,

it’s not a prayer.

It’s just the sound of me existing,

trying to prove to myself

that I am still here,

still alive,

still moving.

I want to talk

because the words I hold in

become storms.

They tear me apart in silence,

but when I spill them out,

even if nobody listens,

the storm softens,

the sky clears,

and I feel a little less alone.

So here I am,

just talking,

just breathing in syllables,

letting my feelings walk out of me

one line at a time.