my mouth opens,
but the only thing I can feel is
my throat crushing in on itself,
constricting on its own,
pressuring the fragile chords within,
refusing to allow me to speak,
collapsing in on itself as if to say
no, now is not the time,
you cannot trust,
you cannot let this secret go,
no one should know,

and I clear my throat,
or try to,
as the words falter and stop,
crashing into one other,
losing structure, losing sanity,
before they even have a chance to escape
my mind, from carefully calculated plans
to another's ears,

and she looks at me expectantly, 
as silence hangs itself,
lonely,
and the little coward in the corner
gathers itself,
shattered pieces, incomplete strings, tiny slivers
all stuck together from half-peeling sections of 
duct tape and left over glue,
a mismatch of unneeded, unwanted, discarded
somethings,
a mockery of courage,
palms sweating,
heart racing in a panic
beating, beating,
trying to beat out of my chest
to break free from a prison of fear
and build a tentative, hope filled construct,
one that does not guard against those outside
and inside, 
but invites.

And my lungs gasp a huge whoosh of a breath,
but it doesn't help like they say it should,
and it doesn't steel my nerves for what I'm about to do,
it doesn't make me feel ready, braver, stronger,
but it serves to force my hand,
telling myself that there is not turning back,
and a tidal wave of emotions crash over me,
numbing me,
as time paradoxically slows and quickens,

and in a blink it's over,
a myriad of emotions, satisfaction, relief,
oh-that's it?
spreads itself over me like a warm blanket,
ever comforting,
ever warming.

A door closes,
and the world is left open
for those lucky enough to seize it.