The lock

There,

in that deep point within my chest,

something is lodged,

a weight that refuses to move,

refuses to name itself,

refuses to let me breathe,

without reminding me it’s there.

It doesn’t leave,

so I don’t get the mercy of rest.

It doesn’t speak,

so no one hears the breaking.

I walk around with it,

like a secret stitched into my ribs,

tight, aching,

pulling with every breath I try to take too deeply.

People talk.

The world moves.

Voices pass through me like wind through broken walls,

and I nod, I answer, I exist...

but something inside me is still stuck

in that one unmoving moment.

There,

where the silence is heavier than noise,

where words dissolve before they reach my mouth,

where I am screaming

but only I can hear it.

I try to swallow it down,

this unnamed thing,

this grief, this weight, this… something.

but it rises again,

pressing against my throat

like it wants to become a voice

and doesn’t know how.

So it stays.

And I stay with it.

Half-here, half-buried,

breathing around a pain

that neither leaves

nor speaks

nor lets me be.

.

.

Aura

Fri, 7:30 pm