by Yasmeen Sheik

My mouth is supposed to be sweet

A thick nectar

Ribbons of honey

A smile that captures the soul,

My soul


But it is as bitter as the words you left me with

Numbing my every word

Stifling the song that carried in my smile

Sewing your hatred between my dry lips


I can’t speak.


The dull ache in my mouth

travels down my throat,

As I sit here looking at what I wrote

I can still taste you.

© 2020 WALL Literary Journal 

                Last updated June 2020