the sea anemone in me

There are so many words and I always want to let them out. The tunnels that should connect my head and my heart to my mouth have always gone through my fingertips instead. I don't think that's a new development, I was maybe even born this way. Maybe the condition has been worsened over time, thinking I'd be laughed at or brushed aside but I know how different you are. I see it and feel it and as much as I want it to be true or to just accept that it is true, still my mouth is on lockdown, access denied. Maybe it will get better with time, maybe we can rewire my insides, you and I. Or maybe I'll write you letters, an explanation of my every days and every nights and an outline of my every sighs.