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.
Deep with rage
the soul rots between the bones.
Voices fade.
Words disappear.
Sleep comes—
never gently.
Standing alone in the forest,
the ground underneath
swallowing me whole.
I escape morning
After night
has unearthed my bones.
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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