Everything I want to tell you,

swallowed like a pill.

The hairs of each thought tickle on their way down.

Creeping caterpillar,

trekking along bruised capillaries.

Cocoons, chrysalises,

hanging from every vein and artery,

erupting with beautiful monarchs

and ugly moths.

These butterflies in my stomach,

the very thing that keeps me from eating, sleeping,

live within me.

When I am silent,

I want to scream.

It’s when I am silent that I want to tell you everything…

but I’m afraid that when I speak,

every butterfly will be set free.

Every blessed, special poem that exists in me

will escape, and be lost in the atmosphere.

Every ugly moth will take that chance to escape my lips,

and you will see the lies that I’ve been raising on my own.

I want to tell you everything,

but that would mean I surrender the life that I keep inside of me.

Only an autopsy will reveal

these secrets tattooed on my ribs.