An aphonic word touches my lips,
it promises it will be spoken dulcetly
If I were to give it the chance to exist,
And when I deny the word what it wants,
It begs,
It fills my mind and consumes my being,
It forces its way into my belly
And settles there.
I know all too well that it won’t leave.
My mind, and my body are its sacred place,
Never the wind,
Nor the paper,
My pen will never be able to make use of this word.
My mind though, oh my mind,
It will play the word over and over again,
It will sound out every syllable,
It will break it up into pieces,
And it will never leave me.
It lines my stomach now,
Infecting everything within this husk,
Makes me up;
My saliva, blood, and tears
Until it’s all I am.