They call her names,
send their curses through a screen.
She blocks them,
but the words slip through the cracks,
curl beneath her skin.
She scrubs her face,
but the insults don’t wash away.
She sleeps,
but the whispers slither through her dreams.
Years pass.
The usernames are gone.
The accounts are deleted.
The laughter has moved on.
But the words—
the words still stay.
Mar 30, 2025
Mar 30, 2025 at 7:33 PM UTC
They call her names,
send their curses through a screen.
She blocks them,
but the words slip through the cracks,
curl beneath her skin.
She scrubs her face,
but the insults don’t wash away.
She sleeps,
but the whispers slither through her dreams.
Years pass.
The usernames are gone.
The accounts are deleted.
The laughter has moved on.
But the words—
the words still stay.
This poem plays with the idea that words, once spoken (or typed), never truly go away.
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