shame is the silence when she asks you
what you've done in the five weeks you haven't spoken.
i got dressed, you want to say,
took a shower every day and didn't forget to eat.
i raised my hand in class once, didn't stutter. andsometimes,
sometimes i wore a dress with high heels underneath,
walked with my head held so high,
i felt like royalty.
but i haven't seen the sunset while someone held my hand,
and i can't remember the last time a boy kissed me.
and most of the time, i'm so tired
breathing feels like a full-time job i'm just not good at.
so there's the truth in a five-second pause, in a laugh
and a shrug and a little white lie.
so there's the shame, the shame in running out of words,
realising you've been living in an airtight jar, and not knowing how to explain
the whole world seems so big from down here.
