Gardens

I keep my mouth closed
If I told you, I would break again
Like I did when my thousand stained-glass pieces
Sliced your perfect paper limbs.

I've tried to replace my pieces with
broken bottles
and cement them to a fence
So we can all pretend I have
something to protect.

All this insecurity and rejection
has blown a bullethole
Where my mouth should be,

But I will wipe this blood off my fingers
with a paper napkin
While you fill my broken lips with dirt
and plant a flower on my tongue

instead of words.