Just another line on the chalkboard,
another marker,
four vertical and one horizontal line to complete.
five.
All of my imperfections staring me in the face,
don't fucking let them show through this time.
I promised her in my head a thousand times.

Revert back to childhood behaviors,
now.
Discontinue interaction.
Smile pretty and wish this away.

Does she understand the way my lungs freeze inside my chest.
Does she feel the panic bubbles violently sifting through my veins.

Shut down thought process.
Find the little plain white pill and crush in half.
Swallow hard.
Taste the chemicals in my saliva
and follow with a mouthful of water to erase.

Do you understand.
This is one second.
One second of emotion broken down into pieces for your comprehension,
to aid in your digestion.
Because if I can't express myself,
then this isn't worth it.

Five lines on this chalkboard.
I keep track of when you speak.