The words were stuck like a chicken bone in her throat.
They wouldn't go anywhere,
They wouldn't go away back to the hell they were made
But they also wouldn't crawl out
They were lodged
They liked it where they were
They were safe
They couldn't cause anymore harm
They couldn't become a reality
But they could be felt
They were known and couldn't stew
And the feelings that came with them couldn't
Be shoved back down to be ignored.
To be left alone with no one to care for them.
That's what they needed, to be cared for
To be seen, to be heard to be felt.
The feelings
the words
The pain.
That's what they needed.
To be held gently,
To be loved and cared for
But they didn't get it
Because she was afraid
She was afraid of what they might do to her
They weren't going to love and care for her
She felt they were going to hurt her
She didn't know what was going to happen
If she poured them out and laid them on the table
And carefully examined and loved each one.
Tears might fall
Breathing may be lumbered
Shaking may take over
And shame might settle in.
So she swallows them back down
Into the bottle where they're not looked upon
And screws on the cap as tight as she can
And then new begins a new day.
But each new day brings more feelings and thoughts and words
And eventually the bottle can't hold them anymore and it shatters
And they make their way back up to her throat again.
And the cycle repeats.
She's stuck, and so are they.