10.27.19

There is a myriad of words that I am
afraid to say. They echo in my head
and dance on the tip of my tongue like
a taunt, never taking the leap off of the
edge and past my lips. I love you and
I want this and I am good enough to be 
loved back. These are silent because of 

sacred softness, because I am frightened

of what they mean. I am  afraid that 
they will hurt once they are known. 

I deserve good things for trying the best
that I can with what I've been given, and 
I am not worthless, and there are good things
waiting up ahead for me. These are silent
because I do not believe them. I am afraid
that saying them out loud would be lying, 
and that the lie would twist into guilt in the 
pit of my stomach, and there is enough
guilt there already. But I am hoping that 
one day the fear of words will not be there, 
and that I will believe the things that I have

to force into my thoughts today. Even this
admission takes courage. One day my words
will not echo like ghosts of regrets, and they 
will take the leap past the threshold. One

day I will hear myself say that I am doing better, 
hear myself say that I am happy and that I care,
and I will not feel myself tremble at the honesty. 

I want to give out my words bravely.