Posted in Creative Writing

Precious Things

I cradled the creature in my hands
caged between fingers
delicate as sugar glass

and it grew

pushing against the bars
the creature peered through the fissures
sensing a shift –
a change in motion
the cogs in my head clicking

still it grew

gorging itself
on a feast of doubt
the creature began to tremble
emitting sparks
in its tiny prison,
drawing too much attention

so I swallowed it whole
creating a lump in my throat,
my chest made a sturdier cage

[This poem, I guess, is about a lot of things – the things I wish I’d said and never did. The ideas that I shoved in a box and stored away in the dark corners of my mind, the integral parts of myself that I long to share with the world but keep hidden… yeah. Make of it what you will.]


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