If I could find the words
All the perfect syllabled sonnets
To describe the hurricane that rages
Beneath the broken ribcage of mine
I’d spew them out like sparrows flocking.
I don’t want to keep it inside me.
I want to get rid of all the things that never mattered much to you
And mattered all too much to me.
I want to get rid of dog ear pages of the story I told myself.
Get rid of the carefully documented and cataloged moments in my mind.
But I can’t.
My tongue is too weak to spit them out
And my mind too feeble to find them anyways.
And you don’t deserve that either.
But if I could
If I simply could
I would spit all of this out
With one simple motion.