There is a lump in her throat,
It grows just like the silence on her lips.
She sits there frozen in thought,
While it spreads a cobweb of denial.
Binding inescapable syllables
To interwoven shadowed threads.
Her train of thought
Shrouded in darkness,
Unable to accept
What’s buried inside her head.
~
It’s getting hard to swallow now-
Fighting against time
And her own stifling pride.
She can feel it.
She can’t help it.
She’s paralysed.
~
So she paints on a rouge kiss,
Ties on a silk scarf and takes to the streets.
Masking emotions with charismatic smiles
And an adopted feigned indifference.
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