Eternal Burn

My worst times are when I have a troublesome day and there is no one to talk to about it. I have no one to share mine or my kids everyday accomplishments or problems with.

I can not give these burdens to my children. It’s just us. They will have enough of their own trauma to deal with as they get older but I hope they won’t ever experience this type of loneliness. 

The man I made these children with, tattooed their names on his skin before leaving the country three years ago. I wonder if he wants to dig the letters of their names from his skin like he did from his life.

So I just swallow my bad days. They leave my guts eternally burning. I cover my trauma in flowers. At least it’s more pleasing to the eye.

And I write, because I am the loudest on paper. My ink can be an ear piercing screech into the void. I know how to make you listen.

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