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Sometimes – A poem

A sad, woman in black, looking down at the floor crouches behind a woman in white, who looks straight at you.
Image sourced from Pixabay

Sometimes

Sometimes she got so
Very
FULL
Of things
Once more
Unsaid,
She feared the words
Would force themselves
Out of her skin,
Tearing a place
In the ether
With razor tipped
Fingers.

Because sometimes
There was just
NO WAY
Of saying what should
Be said.

Not without……. more.

But why did it burn so much,
That,
That,
Feeling.

That feeling
That what she really meant was,
How
Dare she
Take the lid of her box.
Hmm.
Well guess what?
The lid is off.

And now,
Well now..

THERE ISN’T A BIG ENOUGH BOX.

© Cathie Tufnail

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Published inMental StatesPoetryPoetry - prose

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