Feelings

Please do not ask me how I feel.

I might just go and tell you. 

But the trouble with that is 

The words will never come out right. 

They will stumble over the bumps on my tongue 

Like my heart beat when you smile in my direction.

You are sunshine and grace wrapped into a beautiful package hand crafted for anyone but me.

I am a storm cloud raging with PTSD and suicidal jokes, hand crafted for no one save the demons in my head.

You are a gentle breeze and a massive wave all at once.

I am a broken glass someone has put back together with Scotch tape.

You say I'm beautiful, but I just can't see it.

I say you're perfect, but never out loud.

You see, I have told you countless times exactly how I feel.

But only in my head.

If I try to say it out loud, the words chase each other around like a game of tag and refuse to settle down into the sentences I want them to.

They come out awkward and forced like a tomboy in a beauty pageant. 

Still beautiful but not quite right.

It can be painful sometimes because I'm not quite sure how to answer.

I feel so many things that switch from one to another so quickly it's like my heart is watching television and there is nothing interesting on. 

So please, do not ask how I feel.

Because I might just go and tell you.