silence.

on your tiptoes, pad
around the lonely house,
whispers of the spirits
thick in the air.

they tell you and me
secrets, secrets that you
could never tell to 
anyone else.

fluttering heartbeats as
cool water splashes into
the glass, cracked lips
longing to taste a new
beginning.

the spirits, they tell
me not to say what i feel,
what i think.

they say that if i keep it all
inside of me, my heart will
ache, and i will forget.

they tell me what i know
will hurt you, that it will
hurt me and my tender innocence.

so i beg them, cover my
mouth with your binding hands,
hide my language in a far away cage
that only you have the key to,
because my mother didn't raise me
to stay silent, my mother didn't raise
a coward.