I have words caught in my throat and they’re ready to crash through my teeth. Truth will spill out of me like a breaking silence. I’d rather be dared to stand still without speaking as the words leak from me like holy water. Except I’m not very forgiving lately. Rip out a part of the parts you hate because every part is useless until the ending of every story. Finality. The scariest part. When the book ends and you crack open the spine to try and read the rest but your bones are breaking and the words are smudging against your fingertips and you feel youth capsizing in tears that never come. The truth is this: drowning feels comfortable when you don’t do it alone. That’s not promised. People leave like seasons except winter may be permanent, even though you crave summer. And the feeling of warmth will leave you when your friends stop calling like they used to. Laughing in an empty parking lot while the rest of the town sleeps- cool cement soaking through the back of your knees and the fluttering of nicotine heartbeats. Watch as it all floats higher than the smoke from your last cigarette until it disappears. And I know this is true but I can’t accept it without crumbling so I let it sit inside me like a confession I can’t tell you. A secret kept secret for the sake of being a secret. So when you see me I won’t say much like I used to, because I have words caught in my throat and they’re ready to crash through my teeth. -AMT