Fading Marks

Last week’s fall left marks on my skin,

purple shades blooming like dark roses,

reminders of earth's harsh embrace,

each bruise a story I won’t tell,

a canvas of pain, softened by the passage of days.

They’re fading now, quiet ghosts of discomfort,

but the memory lingers like an unwelcome guest,

people ask no questions, yet their eyes tell tales,

while I disguise my stories behind layers of fabric,

a secret history tucked away for safety,

still echoing in the silence between breaths.