November 8th, 2021
There is something stuck in my throat today. I do not know how old you are. I do not know the color of your hair, the color of your nails, the color of the shirt you wear to sleep. There is something lodged in my chest today. A hand, maybe, close to my heart, picking at an old wound. I used to look passed you when you spoke, for fear that a tickle would feel comfortable in my stomach. For fear that my chest would be tight. For fear that I'd fall in love so carelessly like I once believed I did. Today, though, the words stuck in my throat are for you only. The words stuck in my throat I have said before. The words stuck in my throat make me want to cry, and just thinking of you honestly now does the same. I miss you; I am accepting defeat in my own way. Defeat in which I will never know you again, and that the words will never come out of my throat.
R.K.
YOU ARE READING
Holeheart
PoesiaI am the forgiver. I am the destroyer. I'm not at fault, but I deserve to be. Poetry and Prose Volume V 2021 DISCONTINUED
