On swallowing

Where does offence go to die?
Does it linger in the air
Like an invisible toxin
Choking you
Compelling you
To spit back the venom
You have received
Just so you can breath again?
Or do you swallow it?
Determined to keep the peace
You bite-size the offense
Until the pieces accumulate and form
A disturbing lump in your belly
Filling you up
With an empty resentment?
Swallowing offense often seems better
Because it isn’t immediately messy
And it temporarily absolves you
From the work of reconciliation
But sooner or later
The body talks back
And you may come to find
That there are some things
You just can’t stomach.

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