The Gild
I used to think my darkness had no home. No origin story to compel an ache which belied an otherwise affable self. Upon the reflection of age I found trauma came in sips and cracks. A mother volcanic. A family habituated to eggshells and sheltering deflection. All the precarious moments exacting their happiness toll. Leaving a splintered house thrumming with care and gilded in strength. By Jiva’s Mind “The Gild” © 2021 JivasMind.tumblr.com

















