Sour Secrets

We suffocate on the secrets we refuse to tell anyone but ourselves.

She suckles on her lower lip
as her eyes weep in silence.
Her chest sinks a little
beneath her floral dress,
barely breathing the same
and crushing her tiny heart.
Her spine is an arrow
pointing toward the heavens,
but her skull is a sign
reading 'STOP' again
and again, shouting it aloud.
Her limbs are sheddings
of her lost body left soulless. 
Her heart is the soul of the body
weeping in its cage of flesh,
but she sours the tip of her tongue
and licks the syrup of honesty.
"I admit the deed, I do."
Her chest rises again to breathe,
but a flutter breaks the easiness,
uneasy and weeping again.
With her hand upon her breast,
she soothes it once more
only to breathe the sour words
of secrets never to be told.

Author's Note

What it feels like to have a secret that you can't tell to anyone, but you keep telling it to yourself as if it's going to change anything.

Reviews

[Iam-me]

A deep poem about emotions and fear, betrail and hiding the truth from the open. How it rips you up deep inside. And with a fake smile and everything is okay and good is your answer to everyone around you. While deep inside you are breaking. And cracking up. As you just can't tell anyone the real truth of how your life really is. The stark bare honesty. Would rip it all apart. Even though you are living in a bad place. But you have learnt how to accept it. And make the best of it, even to yourself at time. Living in the fake world of being around drunks, drug taker, abusers whatever.

[Relic]

Suffering in silence can slowly eek away at the body. The mind does indeed effect the body and repeating the secret to one's self can only deepen the weight on the conscience. What we say to ourselves matters. It drives us forward, or keeps us in depression.