Triggers

 They scrape my skin to expose 

what is underneath the surface

and etch their initials into my bones

as if to give the damage purpose. 

But all they are is a reminder

of the trauma I haven't befriended,

and how I wish the past was kinder,

and my body and mind pretended

that my golden spirit wasn't spent -

my smile, fading away -

that despite what I underwent,

I'm somehow carrying on okay.