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She swallowed her words up
Her tongue ached for the not saying
She could feel the fire of them
Slide back down her throat
Some burns feel good for the feel of it
Some burns blister down the gullet
To the belly where the sizzle of acid
Eats up every words she wanted to say
They were gone now to her belly bloat
She thought to take something
For the discomfort of everything unsaid
Some tonic that might keep her shut up
Quiet to the Elephant’s stomp in the room
Hide from what needed saying
Thinking that the gulping down
Like straight shots of whiskey
One after the other would make a difference
This time, this time like the other times
The burn of those swallowed up words
and her swollen tongue behind her teeth
And those shots of whiskey numbing
Her bloated up world of lonely empty
The oxymoron of living small in the large
You wonder how she got to this
How could she let it happen
How could she ache all over like that
Bloated despair and whiskey soaked
Not to mention the Elephant in the room
that trampled every bit of meaning
to nothing and then did it again.
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I love your first mention of the elephant… it’s reference explains all that suppression! Big belly o’ bile!!
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Ya… bloated right on up. thanks LInda for you comments. xo
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