Category A: Chaos
You crept up on me
left my equilibrium in dissonance
wondering whether good things always have a bad after taste.
I've got drawers in my stomach.
Organized by shape and size
my secrets reside
divided by alphabetized cries
labeled with the overflow of denial residing in wake of my whispers.
Each secret, suppressed each time it tries to surface
Is cultivated and fertilized in my file-cabinet stomach
allowed to prosper and grow until it threatens to burst
shattering these carefully constructed confines.
Each desperate whisper is assigned a claustrophobic container
crafted from my left over regrets and sour remains.
You left me lopsided
my categorized insides jumbled by your presence
my heart in dissonance.
I will forever deny
to escape the drawers I hold inside.
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