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An Emetophobe Finally Meets her Match

oh, the most familiar face!

--and the rising

with no fall;

 

no

 

exhale

 

ah

how the chest swells

as at the first waft

of early coffee

demanding I drink.

 

(has anyone ever sighed and found herself shuddering?)

 

I grew ill

some day between first sip and now,

and that taste

 

--yours--

 

now, as much as remembered bliss,

for fear, has become no more

than imagined sickness

 

bowel and gut constrict--

I hold myself,

pretend not

as I'm greeted:

 

"Good morning!"

 

*please

keep that away from me.*

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Written by
karen-elena-parks
American
Published
Jun 18, 2012
Lines·Words
25·86
Notes

© K.E. Parks, 2012

trying not to think too hard about this one

Permission

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