To the Girl Who Swallows Her Silence

May Garner

If you ever find yourself swallowing
pain like pills without water,
know that I’ve done it, too.
Bit my tongue so hard it blistered,
just to keep from lashing my cries. 

If your voice stays coiled deep
in the back of your throat like your father’s fist
and your mother’s sorrow;
we are not weak for trembling. 

There are days I wear silence
like a suit of flesh I own,
but rather, it is a borrowed article
I’ve been carrying around since birth. 

I have been folding my rage like napkins,
tucking them beneath my plate,
at the dinner table where I pray
to a God that no longer
believes in me.

The girl so quiet even the mouse
asks her why she sighs.
The daughter who never learned
to speak without apology jammed
between her syllables. 

If you have ever swallowed shame
like spoiled fruit and cried in utter darkness /
listen, you are allowed to shake,
to be loud, to live, to not be okay,
and to mean it.

---

May Garner
May Garner is a poet and writer based out of Dayton, Ohio. She has been crafting stories and sharing her work online for over a decade now. She is the author of two poetry collections, "Withered Rising" and "Melancholic Muse", both available on Amazon. She has also been featured in several anthologies and magazines, most recently through The Ohio Bards 2025 Poetry Anthology. You can find more of her work on Instagram (@crimson.hands).