Ache—
the kind that sucks
the life out of you,
that stabs your soul
like a rusted dagger
dipped in poison.
I bleed out,
but no one sees.
I cry
while no one hears.
What is the remedy
for an ache that consumes,
a stomach pain that grows
and rots the brain
until you are no longer real?
A phantom fever,
no thermometer can prove.
A scream so internal
it scrapes your throat raw
just by existing.
I try to speak—
but the words dissolve
like sugar in blood.
I hold my body
like a mother holds a dying child—
tender, terrified,
waiting for relief
that will never come.
About the Creator
Lolly Vieira
Welcome to my writing page where I make sense of all the facets of myself.
I'm an artist of many mediums and strive to know and do better every day.
https://linktr.ee/lollyslittlelovelies
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More stories from Lolly Vieira and writers in Poets and other communities.
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I took my son and niece to Gori, a small town in Georgia where Joseph Stalin was born. They talked me into visiting the Stalin's Museum, the largest in the post-Soviet space. I had resisted going there because I just can't stand the monster and know enough about him, or so I thought.
By Lana V Lynx8 days ago in FYI
Comments (2)
So many people can feel this pain but can’t express that invisible, consuming ache that makes you feel both hollow and overwhelmed at the same time.
You've really captured the kind of ache that’s invisible but unbearable. I felt every word.