1895

Discovering my triggers.

An echo in the dark

Lures them out to play

Monotone, yet striving in every way

And although we’ve been apart

Your stitches run deep

Leaking through the seems

I can’t help but feel I may have abandoned me

In some way or another

They take over while I lay frozen

There’s nothing left besides razor sharp emotions

While the echo fades, here comes a whistle

1895

The cause of every ripple

Reviews

[Audie G. Couch]

This was really good. If I may ask, is there a deeper reason why you used the year "1895" in this poem?
In addition to this, I wanted to point out, that I can relate to leaving apart of yourself behind. For one part of ourselves to grow another part must be scarified in some way.
Thanks for sharing =-)

[ThirtyOnePetals]

Thank you so much. 1895 was coincidentally the numerical portion of both my childhood homes. And yes you’re right. There is so much healing when you let go and grow. You are welcome, thank you for commenting and sharing your thoughts. ❤️

[Audie G. Couch]

Of course. I'll be reading more of your work.