sometimes it feels like
i would gain more pleasure
than i could ever imagine
(and considerably more company)
if i kept a rag in my mouth
to bite each time i had the urge to speak;
my mind and heart do not belong in the air.
there are consequences to being open
and i am already a shivering door,
scarred from knocking too hard
and ready to slam shut as quietly as i could.
the only thing preventing this
is the fear that someone would still hear the click.