What I Heard
3 hours ago
A Prose Poem by Naomi Ward
I was young when I heard the grown-ups talk. They spoke about a girl and lowered their voices.
“She’s ruined,” they said, shaking their heads as though they were naming the weather.
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I stood in the doorway, holding my breath. I kept my secret locked behind my teeth. Nobody looked at me. Nobody guessed. But I heard my own life inside their sentence.
It had happened to me again and again. Their word settled over me like a coat someone else had already worn.
Ruined. Used up. Finished before I had even begun.
Ruined. That word followed me into the years that came after, settling into places I did not know how to name.
© 2026 Naomi Ward
