The worst kind of fear

is the one which sits in your heart

because it cannot push its way

through the darkness between your ribs

and into your throat.

It cannot weave its way up

your oesophagus to rest

on the back of your tongue

heavily waiting for the right time to speak.

It sits in silence

unable to command consonants

or vowels; it can only pull

on the strings around it

so you know it is there,

that it smacks and stings,

that it is waiting.

Poem: © Kristiana Reed 2019

Between the Trees UK

Between the Trees US

Available internationally

Image by ValeriaLu from Pixabay

3 thoughts on “Heartburn

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