3:02pm

I lie on the hospital bed,

wanting to tell stories

that have stayed hidden

for far too long.

It’s not easy,

especially when

this man sitting in front

of me,

clad in a suit and

carrying a few of my favourite things -

(a Parker pen,

a notepad)

tells me to trust him

with them -

secrets included.

I don’t know where to begin

or where to stop if I do.

All I know is,

the wetness on my face

they pour out

with the words

from my tongue.

The locks on my cage

seem to be breaking apart

with every syllable,

spoken to this stranger.