The Swallow

Three weeks I told him, don't go that way.

He did it anyway, naturally.

The problem came back today—

I smiled and said, "Honestly,

it's fine. We'll fix it. No stress."

My face in the mirror was all lie.

I swallowed the thing I didn't express,

the word that would have made him cry,

or feel shame, or admit

he was wrong. Instead I chose

to swallow it, to commit

myself to the kindness that erodes

you from the inside. That smile

cost me something I can't say.

Still sitting in my throat. Still foul.

Still burning. Still here. Still stays.