I learned to pour cereal before I learned my times tables,
holding the box steady with small hands,
careful not to spill—there was no one to clean up after me.
I have been the keeper of quiet,
the one who tiptoes, who smooths things over,
who learns that love is something you earn
by being useful.
No one ever asked if I wanted to be strong.
No one told me that childhood had an expiration date
or that mine would come early,
cut short by the weight of what they could not carry.
I have tucked in children I did not birth,
soothed fears I did not plant,
patched holes in walls I did not break.
I have been daughter, mother, sister, referee,
apologizing for things I did not do,
sacrificing pieces of myself like breadcrumbs,
hoping one day, they might lead me home.
YOU ARE READING
ache & after
PoésieAche & After is a poetry collection about emotional aftermath. It explores love that bruises, loss that lingers, trauma that reshapes, and the slow, imperfect process of healing. Written through moments of grief, longing, survival, and self-discover...
