By Molly Knox
Courage of bearing those hidden aching words,
Which run deep in routes, deals, deeds. Of “unintended” essential intention.
Strewn together scrabble letters of the right words to utter, stretching behind
Shoulders. Traced through telling generations of gut reactions.
Uncertainty under dimly lit paths or living room red flags.
Words which feign shock but really define blurred fury,
Disgust. The untwisting of ink wails poisoned like century old sweets,
Rancid and swallowed, not chewed. Sticky,
Digested by some unlucky billions.
The sour obvious contained in that tin. Heavy
Amongst the frills of the subtle and scary.
The fiery pits of it could have been me.
Confused to stop sounding selfish
To want safety. We hold an unmatched tender strength.
But across my heart I feel, once again,
A rotting, time-old agony for another
Illustration by Alexandra Baker