Ache

Ache—

the kind that sucks

the life out of you,

that stabs your soul

like a rusted dagger

dipped in poison.

I bleed out,

but no one sees.

I cry

while no one hears.

What is the remedy

for an ache that consumes,

a stomach pain that grows

and rots the brain

until you are no longer real?

A phantom fever,

no thermometer can prove.

A scream so internal

it scrapes your throat raw

just by existing.

I try to speak—

but the words dissolve

like sugar in blood.

I hold my body

like a mother holds a dying child—

tender, terrified,

waiting for relief

that will never come.