gilded heath
It’s never gonna go away,
don’t tell me I’ll be fine someday.
You can’t just say “don’t let it stay,”
when it sleeps beside me anyway.
You say don’t let it shape my days,
don’t let it color all my ways,
but trauma doesn’t ask it stays,
it lingers in the quiet haze.
Some scars fade soft, some scars conceal,
some slowly stitch, some never heal.
Some wounds are loud, some never reveal,
and some just echo what you feel.
Some trauma bends but lets you grow,
some teaches things you didn’t know,
some makes you stronger than you show
and some just won’t let go.
Mine?
Mine haunts like footsteps down a hall,
like shadows stretching on the wall.
It doesn’t scream it doesn’t call
it waits for me to slip and fall.
I’ll never be that girl again,
the one untouched by certain pain.
That version washed away in rain,
and won’t be walking back my lane.
But hear me clear through all this ache
I wake up still. I choose to wake.
Each breath I pull, each step I take,
is proof I didn’t break.
I’m trying hard to still be here,
to fight through memory and fear.
To live another stubborn year,
though ghosts still whisper in my ear.
It’s never gonna go away.
And maybe that’s just how it stays.
But I’m still standing anyway
and that’s my strength these days.
tepid panther
molten yacht
pulsar grove
chrome jetty
spark cairn
tawny harbor
keen spoke
regal hamlet
stray parcel