her inferno

Latest poem on Hijacked Amygdala.

hijacked amygdala

suicide-in-art-rosie--high

a voice

something still alive

someone trying not to scream

they make a sound that could only be described as an

oral ache

stretch of sinew, wide mouth, no noise, neighbors hear

nothing

there has been too much pain for sound

still tears come, when you think there could be no more

nobody knows, nobody knows, nobody knows

behind well constructed facade, beneath masks

the woman with her head in the oven

probably wrote a decent poem before she expired

smoothed her apron down, sent her kids to school

before turning the dial high

her own sounds of anguish and the hiss of gas

a sigh of sighs

the postman can knock on the door and you can open with a bright

false smile and he will think to himself as he departs, she is such a happy

woman always with a nice thing to say and a bright grin…

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12 thoughts on “her inferno

  1. Incredibly gut-wrenching, Candice. You can always shock my senses with your words. I’m always amazed by how you get to the heart of anguish so effortlessly in your writing. Or is it just that you feel it deeply like so many of us who have been wounded carelessly by others? Thank you for unleashing these emotions, love.

  2. I think I wanted to describe a despairing woman in her silence, it was an idea I had, and then I went from there. I am so happy you liked it (even though it was a depressing subject) and read it (thank you so much) xo

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