̶ ̶ xlvii. FEAR MY MOTHER CARRIES.
you made me so afraid of my own voice like it held the ghost of someone that haunted you in nightmares like the one you had the night before and i'm confused as to why i only speak in whispers now when all i want to do is scream until my knees give out and i fall to the ground with a sore throat and knuckles turning white as i grip at the grass beneath me.
but i stay quiet and watch as you sit peacefully,
telling me i'm better off with my mouth shut.
YOU ARE READING
soon.
Poetryxvi, april. (i). cotton mouth with a heavy heart. © playlist poetry h.r. : #47
