Maybe the way your voice shakes isn’t an impediment,
it’s relevant to remember,
that you only get caught up,
abandoned by your own breath,
when you think too much,
about the way you lost your last voice.
You only get fucked up,
when you think of how you lost her,
the way she clung to your coat,
as you began the long road away from yourself,
closing your eyes,
as if it would silence her screams,
as she begged and pleaded,
wondering why she wasn’t good enough to stay in your body.
Maybe it’s an indication,
that you’re choking on the things you stole,
and the corpse of your last cause,
your last voice,
that you lost,
lays inside your throat,
staring up at the way she was replaced,
growing more vengeful every day,
getting in the way of your new life.