I can feel the roots in my gut,
knotting around my intestines
while the branches creep upwards
and my throat bobbles.
Twigs stretch higher,
almost to the back of my throat,
while the words I wanted to say
Like half chewed bread on the roof of my mouth,
no matter how my tongue toys with it,
it won’t budge.
I’m not sure if it’s even the right thing to say,
or a thing you’ll want to hear.
So I swallow past the thorns
and say nothing instead.
Inspired by today’s Daily Prompt: Doubt