heart to heart

I'll never be good at it.

Yell, scream, cry; I fight back.
Calm, sob, whisper; I retire with zipped lips.

Guilt, uneasiness, shyness all rolled into a furball in the pit of my stomach not wanting to get out.

I'm a girl who'll never voice out my personal emotions -- sentimental ones. I have lived with it. People around me may understand, but that's not how it would always work.
Sometimes they need to hear it, hear me.

But I still can't.

And I wish writing would suffice.
Sometimes it does, no matter how vague it unfurls.
Most of the time, it's just not enough.

I'm still trying to find out how.