I’m stuck somewhere between your head and your heart
caught in the back of your throat
always on the back of your tongue
and I’ve marked my name and days here in my prison
in the soft tissue around me
I’m sure it will scar, at least a little
my feet are burned from your reflux
and I have lost the strength to climb, to fight
you will not swallow me or spit me out
you just keep me here pressed up against the wall
your voice moves through me, shakes me
I catch a glimpse of the back of your lips
and the memories of when you kept me there, gently, between them
overwhelm me; I long to be back there
back before you gobbled me up
and my grief upon your breath is a breath of strength for me
I’m sure it is my last

I’m stuck somewhere between your head and your heart
caught in the back of your throat
and there are two ways I can go
but I do not want to live in your head anymore
although you know I love the view from out your eyes
but it is far too lonely to live as just a thought
in the magnificent gallery that is your mind
and I am afraid that your heart will read ‘no vacancy’
or that I cannot afford the rent
or that I will grow weak inside the muscle
when it beats me down again
and I will no longer have the strength to climb back up
as I make the drop as the knife makes the plunge
down to your stomach
to be digested
alongside this morning’s coffee
and I fear the caffeine will stay in your system much longer than I will