She was quiet
No word.
No teardrop.
No sound.
In some way,
That made it more
alarming,
Like the calm
before the storm.
Like she was bottling
Every thunder
Every lightning.
Waiting
For the last drop.
To let it all out.
To rage.
To cry out.
A Crypt Of Sorrows
By Flightywords
A poetry collection. Β©bil garcia/ flightywords More