So I’ve never shared anything like this before, at least not here… This is a poem I wrote a couple of days ago about hiding hard feelings and rawness behind masks built on the pretence of pretending to be fine, something I think we are all guilty of doing. I’m really intrigued to see what you think so please tell me 🙏🏻
Her skin is clear, unblemished
Looking at her, you might not know the storms she’s weathered. But if you look closer you’ll see valleys of bruises in various sickly hues, each one placed by careless hands.
There are cracks in her face; she traces every time she looks in the mirror, a neon rainbow of pain, pulsating with the shadow of each promise broken and heartstring snapped.
Sometimes she can’t speak – her tongue lies limp and heavy, poisoned by the honeyed words and names of all who have left her waiting for days that never came, who broke her so badly she’s never the same.
Her throat closes over as she anticipates the next hit, washing the blood from the back where their knives slot in too easily now.
Day by day she makes herself smaller hoping they won’t find her but their arrows always do,
She spends time shutting off the wounds and cauterising the parts of herself that caused the pain, locking away the melodies and colours one by one, until her world is black and white but at least she is standing, no longer curled in a ball, smile fixed.
Hope flares and she hopelessly desperately rises but then each time the flames of it are snatched away and her soul, once blazing has slipped back into frozen.
Rinse. Repeat. Press the bruise and release it only when the pain is gone. Numb. Shaky breath. Smile. Pull your pieces together until the next crack appears.
Maybe one day she might find real glue to put the pieces back together and transform herself into a golden shape. But for now the pain shall remain hidden…