• They say that logic is the map, but intuition is the journey. For a long time, I’ve kept my creative world—my “Elizabeth Ardelle” world—neatly tucked inside the lines. But tonight, the lines are softening. I’m introducing a new series here on Lyrical Logic called The Haze Chronicles. In my daily life, I deal in the…

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  • Blue Irises: A Dark Allegory  on Childhood Trauma & Survival

    A dark, modern fairy tale exploring the heavy gravity of childhood trauma, dissociation, and the spaces we build in our minds to survive emotional abuse.

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  • The Math of Moving On

    Healing isn’t linear. Three years post-divorce, the waves of grief still hit. An honest look at depression, therapy, and why I’m done apologizing for the bad days.”

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  • A Speck of Sand

    A Speck of Sand by Elizabeth Ardelle – original country music style single cover featuring a woman standing on a dirt road next to a Redwood tree.

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  • Blue vs. Red Napkins

    Another portion from the project I’m working on. It feels a little close for comfort, which means my nervous system is doing it’s job: healing. Saturday morning was usually a quiet affair for Cheryl Miller. She would sip her coffee in the sun room with the paper and just lounge. It was her necessary decompression…

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  • A New Normal

    I had a whole plan of what I was going to say. But that has kinda just gone out the window. It seems as though my nervous system has decided to take my life hostage and is demanding the healing that it has desperately needed. For the next few months, I’ll likely be sharing random…

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  • 2026

    2026 has started off odd. It’s brought a lot of repressed feelings to the surface. My therapist loves it. I don’t. But here is a snippet of something I wrote recently. Not a poem. But part of a larger story. I just wanted to share it. Because poetry isn’t doing it for me right now.…

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  • I didn’t grow up in a pretty house. I didn’t grow up in the perfect family. I wouldn’t even say I grew up in a home. I grew up in the mess. I grew up in a family that didn’t care. I grew up in a building. I walked on eggshells. I always held my…

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  • A vulnerable reflection on wanting love without losing identity — this poem speaks to anyone rebuilding after betrayal and learning to love again on their own terms.

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  • Five.

    Five years after losing the baby she never got to hold, a mother marks her daughter’s birthday with “what ifs,” Christmas memories that never were, and a love that hasn’t faded. This poem gives voice to the invisible grief of a child who only lived in her heart.

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