Icebergs

by You Have My Word

I have a raging sea inside my chest and this rib cage is a sad excuse for a boat hull. There is no safety here; there is shipwreck and sinking and shouting and searing pain from where we struck rock. So we bleed out, while the water pours in, and no one knows any better because this is all between the lighthouse where my voice would normally be found and the pit of my stomach which acts as the ocean floor. From the surface, there is not even a ripple to change the rhythm of a swell.

They say you only ever see the tip of the iceberg – 90% of it sits below what’s visible to the eye. Perhaps they meant to say icebergs and pain.

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