To the One Who Knows the Ache
- Aubrey Earle
- May 19
- 2 min read
Tell me this… when silence grows,
When evening’s hush begins to close,
Does that small girl inside your chest,
Still beg for arms and longs for rest?
Does she hum in ghostly verse,
In lullabies that once were curse?
What feeling haunts your quiet bones,
Unspoken in the undertones?
Is it sorrow graced in lace,
Or fury with a softened face?
Does it rise like tide, then fall again,
A nameless ache beneath your skin?
If pain had lips and breath and name,
Would it whisper love or shout out blame?
Would it kneel beside your battered bed
And cradle all the words unsaid?
Would it preach the truths you hide,
Or kiss the wounds you’ve tucked inside?
What do you mourn that no one sees…
A silent loss and a quiet freeze?
What graves have you, in secret, dug…
For dreams that never got a hug?
Where does your soul go when you're afraid,
When light dissolves and colors fade?
When you are names and roles and not pure flame,
Do you recall your untamed name?
Do you run to that place of fire and sky,
Or simply sigh and pass it by?
When your mind becomes a storming sea
And your breath forgets who it should be…
Who rises from the ruined shore,
The you they never asked you for?
Is she wild-eyed and crowned in past smoke?
Is she the vow that never broke?
What petals sleep beneath your pain,
What songs unsung, what sacred rain?
What softness waits in buried light,
Too holy for the daily fight?
Can love still see the girl you were…
The poet aching beneath the blur?
Not just the strong, the brave, the excelled,
But the soul who still dreams to be held?
If one true scream could meet the skies,
Unjudged and unheard by cautious eyes,
What thread of fire would you release,
What final ache… what hidden peace?
And tell me this, with all your grace…
What does freedom’s shadow taste?
Is it velvet? Is it rust?
Does it smell like ancient trust?
What keeps your palms from reaching wide,
While your soul is severely starved inside?
-AubsThePoet
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