my old bandage
soft, frayed edges,
threadbare, worn thin
by restless hands, restless nights,

maroon patches
like cowhide on cotton,
each stain a quiet record
of battles no one saw

years of ache
woven into its threads,
dried blood stiff
like a childhood teddy
clutched too hard,

and still –
i rinse it gently,
silent and thinking,
afraid the water
will wash away
what held me together

I say I’m fine,
It’s just easier that way,
No questions asked,
No truth to betray.

I smile and nod,
While I’m breaking inside,
Too scared to speak,
So I run and hide.

I’m tired of lying,
Tired of pain,
Wishing this silence
Would wash away like rain.