The Shape It Takes

You may flinch when silence lingers,

You may grieve what wasn’t said,

You can pace a thousand midnights,

With the weight of words you’ve bled.

You can bruise beneath the surface,

You can flood and not explain,

You may hold a heat so blistered,

No one else can name the flame.

You may keep a script unspoken,

May pretend it’s not a threat,

You can trace the lines in silence,

But don’t cast them out as debt.

You may carry storms like secrets,

You may ache beneath the sun,

But don’t forget you’re sowing,

What will bloom, or come undone.

You may cool to edge and shimmer,

Like a blade that won’t forgive,

You can ache without collapsing,

But don’t teach it how to live.

Cathrine Hottran 2025