Trauma (n): The shattering of the assumptive world.
Nursing disappointment in the blue and white blanket that almost raised you.
Meet yourself here where the silence drapes across the skin. Settles like a web and memory forgets how air is taken in.
The wind scattered words that were to be strung across the delicate branches of our growing trees.
She played him a song, notes curved on the red floors. He squinted, smiled, didn’t get it.
The silence is a held note and hope? Hope is a biting insomnia. It is two front teeth gnawing at the shape of reality waiting for what should come.
Teal is the colour of things misplaced and too many in-betweens, always but not enough. Too much.
The laughter is a crack, splintering of wood. Listen, you will hear it.
Or you won’t.
Everything, everything, everything just to survive yourself.
Cover art: Michaela Yearwood-Dan.