There’s a lump in my throat
and all unsaid words feel stuck
I can’t seem to get away
from the pain they create
There’s a hole in my chest
formed by the words you left
they tried to keep me whole
but they were the ones who broke me
Will it always feel like this?
Is there no place I can be free?
If I don’t take them away from me?
Or should I profess them out loud
and not care about the destruction they’ll cause
Once I break the chains from silence?
Tacenda are things not to be mentioned or made public—things better left unsaid;