Between Bruises & Blooms

The forest kept everything
I was finally ready to bury.

I came with my arms full—

old apologies,
dead promises,
names I had spent years
pretending didn’t still hurt
when spoken aloud.

I brought the girl
who begged people to stay.

The woman
who mistook being wanted
for being loved.

Every I’m sorry
I swallowed
to keep someone else’s peace.

Every it’s okay
that meant

you hurt me,
but I’m afraid you’ll leave
if I say so.

I dug beneath the black briars
until dirt packed
beneath my fingernails.

One grave.

Then another.

I buried the nights
I blamed myself.

The mornings
I woke carrying guilt
that never belonged to me.

I buried every version of myself
who believed surviving
meant she owed the world
an explanation.

The forest said nothing.

No blessing.

No forgiveness.

No pretty fucking lesson
about everything happening
for a reason.

Only roots
curling quietly
through the earth,

taking what I gave them.

So I kept digging.

Until my hands shook.

Until there was nothing left
against my chest
except my own heartbeat.

I expected grief.

Instead,

somewhere beneath me,

the roots began moving.

Not violently.

Hungrily.

Wrapping themselves
around every memory
I had lowered into the ground.

Claiming them.

Keeping them.

Turning them into something
that no longer belonged
inside my body.

I stood.

Covered in dirt.

Empty-handed.

Alive.

And behind me,

Black Briar Forest
closed over the graves
without leaving
a single marker.

By morning,

there were flowers
where I had buried
everything that broke me.

Dark ones.

Wild ones.

Beautiful things
with thorns.

I didn’t pick them.

Some things
are allowed to bloom

without ever being
carried home.