Silence, and the pain it holds.

There is a reason I am afraid of phone calls and late-night texts.



It is a reason drenched in the tears of a million too-young kids,

And the blood of the people they trusted to stay.



There is a reason I jump at loud noises, or any at all really.



Shouting matches I can’t remember,

Tension, that I didn’t know existed.



There is a reason I laugh when I should be sad.



The overwhelming dread and the fullness of it all,

Finally reminding me that I too, can feel.



There is a reason I stand still when frightened.



Fight or flight pulling in opposite directions,

Giving me a new option; freeze.



There is a reason I bury myself in books.

The words on the page fill my ears like sand,

Reality drowned out under the crashing waves and clanging swords.



There is a reason I don’t speak.



My words stolen away with my breath as I hurtle downwards, eyes only seeing the sky. 



There is a reason I am falling.



My words unspoken weighing me down like lead, trapping my breath somewhere underneath.



There is a reason I can’t breathe.



There has to be, other than the blood

On my hands, on my heart, in my eyes, in my lungs.



There is a reason I am choking.



Other than my throat closing

As the words tumble forward and I breathe out a bloody sob.



There is a reason I am leaning over the toilet.



And all of my teeth are yellowed, loose,

Waiting to be thrown up with the next round of lies. 



There isn’t a reason I am crying.



There is.