hidden things.

everyone has secrets

hers are buried in fields

where buttercups weep

because the sun

hasn’t graced their faces

in far too long

everyone has stories

hers bloom along

the lonely river,

beside the winding road,

on a path of stardust

lined in daisies and dandelions

everyone has scars

hers are nestled within

the clouds’ subtle sighs,

softened by the moon’s kisses

and the sky’s embrace

guarded by a touch of magic

everyone has something

they keep hidden away

she just hides hers

with beautiful things

– ashley jane

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