I learned early—
nothing leaves clean.
Not grief.
Not love.
Not the versions of you
you had to bury to survive.
Fallen tears.
Coffee stains.
Sunlight
cracks through the window—
soft,
but unforgiving.
Heaven—
a state of mind.
Hell
lives deep in the heart.
Smoke without fire.
Footsteps that don’t return.
And something in you
still counting the dead.
Yesterday’s faults
become tomorrow’s sorrows.
In the dark corners of my mind
I string stars like fairy lights.
I take thunder in my chest
and turn it to fuel—
to light the fire within.
Regrowth is not gentle.
I died at midnight—
A slow bleed,
crying spells,
fractures beneath the surface.
Learning to grow
in the soil of last year’s failures—
they are lessons,
not a death sentence.
I shed the stories that kept me small,
shut the doors that fed the dark.
I make peace with sunlight,
and the quiet pull of moonlit nights.
I embrace the changes—
soft,
loud,
necessary.
I hold the tender moments.
I love—despite the madness.
Revival.
Bring me back from the dead—
pull me under
with the weight of your sins.
I’ll tend to your wounds
and carry your name
long after—
it breaks me.
4am
While the world sleeps,
I am lost
between agony and hope
Hot tears,
cold dreams,
the ghost in the mirror is me.
The weight of unmoved mountains
hangs heavy in my soul.
Thunderstorm afternoons,
another day of pretending.
The voices cannot hold my hand,
they only suffocate me.
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