Anna flicked cigarette ashes into a tray, and gravity drew loose ambers that burned the auburn carpet. Her wet eyes trailed revisionist reflections of her youth. To let go or let it show she doesn’t know—the trauma claws at her self-esteem. Anna’s friends praise her failures as blessed flaws forged by insecurity. But the clarity of the hidden voices, locked in her mind, released a sense of heat that she couldn’t bear to touch. The pieces Anna placed in an empty box held the depth of desired forgiveness.
I forgive you (and myself).

Twitter – @AC0040

(© 2023 AC)

(Wattpad, Amazon Kindle, Spillwords, The Writers Club, The Indie Book Store)