I am lips stitched shut and eyes taped
open, seeing everything and saying nothing.
“Wallflower,” you could call me.
We learn the universe by gazing at the
stars. I learned myself by gazing at my
shoes, eyes looking down, thoughts looking in.
I made myself a mystery in
the hope someone would care to
solve it. I locked myself away in
the hope someone would make a
key to fit every door I put in their path.
I believed in a love that could
save me from myself.
Charming naivete.
Stupid girl.
There is no love but the love you earn;
there is no salvation but the one you
make. I have given nothing and
received the same in return. I’ve guarded
myself selfishly for fear of being hurt and found
that will starve you.
I am starved for emotion.
This cannot go on.
Cannot.
CANNOT.
I cannot trap my voice
behind these lips
stitched shut; I cannot see forever but
stay silent. And there’s something
safe about being nothing, protection
in insignificance.
Blend in with the wall; speak when you’re
spoken to. Build a fortress out of
solitude and pretend that you’re at
home.
I built a fortress out of solitude and
called that my place my home. No one
warned me just how lonely it would be
with no one else’s voice to fill the silence
and no one else’s touch to ease these
aches. I’ve been safe for sixteen goddamned
years, but sometimes safety hurts you
more than danger ever could. Sometimes
safe is just a synonym for scared.
I’ve bricked over the windows, and
I’ve barred the only door.
Here I’m safe and sound and lost
behind these eyes. I’ve built a
maze around this place to keep it
undisturbed, and yet expected love to come
to me.
But I am not a damsel to be rescued
from this isolation, self-imposed.
Tear down the walls with your bare,
bleeding hands. Break down the walls
that you’ve made. The way out is simple.
The way out is clear: pick out the stitches.
Open your lips. Let the words on
your tongue fly free.