What I Wish I Could Tell Someone

I wish I could say,
“I’m not okay.”
Not with a smile,
Not dressed in grace,
But shaking, gutted,
Eyes that won’t meet your face.

I wish I could scream,
But I talk in a whisper.
I make jokes instead
While I drown in the blister.
I tell stories like fiction
So you won’t see me crack
So I don’t have to admit
That the weight’s on my back.

I wish I could say
That sometimes I break.
That I starve, or I burn
Just to feel something fake.
That the silence inside me
Is screaming so loud,
But I choke on the sound
Because I don’t want to be too proud.

I wish I could say
That I’m scared every day
That I look in the mirror
And wish I’d fade away.
That I ache to be chosen,
But don’t feel like enough,
And I give too much love
Just to prove I’m not tough.

I wish I could say,
“I need someone to stay.”
Not fix me. Not heal me.
Just sit in the gray.
To not look for answers
Or rush to explain
But to hold the goddamn space
For my unseen pain.

I wish I could say,
“I don’t know how to ask.”
That I built this persona,
This perfectly masked
“Strong girl,” “funny girl,”
“Got-her-shit-together” girl
But I’m just a shadow
In a world full of swirl.

So if I never say it,
If I smile and deflect,
Just know there’s a story
That I’m trying to protect.
Not because I want to
Because I had to survive.
But God, I wish someone
Could see I’m alive.

I wish I could say it.
So someone might stay.
But I don’t.
So I write it
And hope that’s okay.

-K