she banished the thought to some antique dusty folder of her mind
despite being all consumed by it
emotions were drowning in seas of debt to the past a hostage
an amygdala of grief
her soul bankrupt
a tangled web of regrets confused no escape as an insect is trapped by steel fibres plucked as a lute cruels a minor key …
every ounce of joy is weightless now
impoverished her beating heart struggles to keep its rhythm alive
its pace winding down like a clock
Flynnpoetry 