Screams by Marina Powell

Screams

By Marina Powell

I’m bottling up my screams for you, in a dark place where I can’t see them. I can’t let them out and I can’t make them go, So I’m forced to let no one hear them. I want to cry, but I have no more tears, and I can’t even look at your face. The bottle reminds me, and when I close my eyes, Your picture will not go away. I’m bottling up my screams for you, in the dark where belief used to be. I never thought it would come it this, never realized you’d stop loving me. If I wasn’t so hollow, broken in two, maybe you’d be able to care. If I wasn’t so tired, so empty, so scared, then maybe you could be there. I’m bottling up my screams for you, in a house that cannot listen. Remembering days when you said you loved me; I never thought I would miss them. Would things be different if I wasn’t cold or if my blood decided to flow? If I tried to be who you wanted of me… but I cannot, will not, go. I’m bottling up my screams for you, regret enters my mind. “Too late” are the words I wonder about; I don’t know if they’ll one day be mine. The story ends with questions; I hold the cold bottle close. Would anything change if the screams came out, If “I love you” weren’t stuck in my throat? I’m bottling up my screams for you and they’re asking, “What did I do?” And the one that most haunts me and rips at my chest: “If I died, would it matter to you?”