Layers of narratives piled atop my
wooden table like books waiting to be read.
I push it aside, letting it fall into a bottomless pit,
constantly turning, swirling,
as I sighed and wiped away a solitary loitering tear.
Fear of judgement,
angst, hormones and unknown passions of the body
lined up outside my door as soon
as the metaphorical books were forced to make an exit.
Fear of fear pushed me over the edge into the abyss,
behind the pages.
The knocking grew softer the farther I fell.
Falling is easy. Dilation. Suffocation. Silence.

-Merrin Abraham

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Someday if you don’t find me, Look for me in silence.. I may not have lost, But may have merged in it.. Look for me where my words fly, Somewhere under a starry sky.. Somewhere where dreams are believed to come true, Where there’s no trap and my soul is set free.. Look for me […]

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