National Poetry Month day 12

 The Butterflies In My Rib Cages

there are butterflies in my rib cages

flapping their wings 

and beating my insides

everytime i open up 

too much

everytime i say one word too many

anytime i use one of my friends as 

my personal diary

i don’t know how to stop

when my head is spinning

but the butterflies in my rib cages

know me better than i know myself

they know when i’m going

 to hate myself tomorrow

they know when i don’t 

 know how to turn around

they know when i can’t

 see the intentions behind the words

and they see the inside of my heart

before i can.