galloping words across her tonguepinch down making it hard to swallow
knots everywhere
knots and laces
tentacles of an octopus
encroach upon nightfall
tied up butterfly wings
in the pit of her stomach
she does not like trembling
or blood upon her lip
those words fall back in her throat now
crumbling into tiny letters
trickling down to rest in a heap
beneath shaky steps
that visceral abyss does the rest
forcing her legs to gasp
walk forward
spit the words out
then wait for her to say yes.
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