Things Unsaid and Unneeded

I will not be small. I will not be quiet. I will not make myself easy to swallow. If you must consume me, then choke.

Some nights, I dream of hands around my throat. I do not know if I am the one choking or the one being choked.

If I am still here, then the worst thing that ever happened to me was not the last thing.

I have survived myself before. I can do it again.

I will make a grave of my ribs if you need a place to rest.

Some loves should not be named aloud. Some loves rot the tongue that speaks them.

I have learned to hold my own hands when there is no one left to do it for me.

Some things are too vast to be contained in a body. Some things crack their ribs open and let themselves out.

I am a thing with a pulse and a name. Everything else is negotiable.

I am an altar built from bone and bad decisions. Do not pray here. I do not think you will like the answers.

If I say I love you, check my hands for blood.

If I am not a weapon, then what am I? A warning? A prophecy? A thing too sharp to be held, too hungry to be kept?

I do not fear death. I fear the possibility that I have already died, and nobody told me.

I do not have a death wish. I just have questions.

I have never died, but I have felt my soul leave me more than once.

Some nights, my body feels like a crime I cannot remember committing.

I was not supposed to make it this far. Now nobody knows what to do with me.