Quiet Confessions

soulful poem about the confessions I only whisper within myself.

There are truths I never speak aloud,
tucked beneath my ribs like hidden clouds.
The kind of confessions that sit in the dark,
leaving fingerprints on my trembling heart.

I admit to myself the things I deny—
the fears that linger, the nights I cry,
the weight of choices that cut too deep,
the memories I bury just to sleep.

I carry the guilt that no one sees,
folded neatly behind practiced ease.
Smiling on days my spirit bends,
breaking in places I refuse to mend.

I shoulder the blame for moments long gone,
still asking if I could have made them strong.
Some burdens stay, no matter the years—
quiet companions built of unspoken fears.

But in the silence, I tell myself true:
I’ve survived storms I never meant to.
These heavy secrets, these hidden scars—
they mark where I’ve been, not who my bones are.

And though the weight may never fully lift,
I remind my heart it’s still a gift—
to feel so deeply, to rise, to fall,
to hold so much and still stand tall.

These confessions I keep are pieces of me—
the pain, the truth, the quiet bravery.
And somehow, through every ache I’ve known,
I learn a little more
about being strong alone.