Twenty-three: The Goldfish Dance

Smoky clouds flooding throats, while I,
burning with silence, do the goldfish dance,
coughing up sounds that used to be words.

Shaky frowns needing to be drawn like
curtains across my tale-telling eyes, and
laughing, wordless, trying to be heard.

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Published by

Alexia

I drink, I laugh, I smoke, I write.

One thought on “Twenty-three: The Goldfish Dance”

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