Collar

The voice here sounds as if a lock has been placed on the door: it seems as if it could be opened, but the creaking of the key immediately reminds us of fears and pride that suffocate more tightly than any collar. Each word comes out with effort, like a stone that should have been thrown off the shoulders long ago, but stubbornly remains in place.

There is irony in acknowledging one's own “tightness” - the language is not lazy, but simply tangled in knots, as if it had been carefully hidden by a cat not out of hunger, but for pleasure. And in this tension, warmth breaks through: metaphors turn awkwardness into poetry and confusion into compliments. Because behind all this stuttering lies something simple - the power of feelings that is louder than any words, even if they are so difficult to pronounce.