Stoic

Dissatisfaction
Suddenly brimming on the edge of my lips
The tip of my tongue

The sour taste of dashed hope
Suffices for my supper

I suffer in everlasting silence
Bleeding out my words of
A pain not comprehended
Onto a page shimmering red
With innocent blood

Haste
Making my fingertip tremble
Sensation of cold
Heat
Drawing out the acid white
Pain of
Bitter mistrust

I bite my fingernails to the quick
In
Panic
That I then suppress
With my blinding smiles
Slight widening of doe eyes

So you cannot see
That I am afraid.

- sarah[inprogress]