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