Chyina Powell

A list of things I wanted to tell you but couldn’t would include the time I submitted my poetry book and hoped for the best. It would include the bitter sting of loneliness that sometimes comes when I gaze out the window. The “no, I’m not fine” that that swallowed down when you asked how I was. It would include the new recipe I tried that actually came out all right, and that time my voice cracked in front of everyone. It would include the way your jokes and cracks really made me feel and how I’m tired, so very tired. And I cannot forget the lies you told that everyone believed because they know you better and you’re more outgoing. It would include late nights and ignored calls, trying to piece myself back together. I’m crying not because I’m sad, but because I’m furious and can’t bottle up these emotions any longer. A list of all the things I wanted to tell you but couldn’t could go on forever. Yet it’s here that I stop.