They say leaving is supposed to feel like freedom. That once you cross the border, you’re safe. That once you step away from the fire, you stop burning. But they don’t tell you about the weight. The kind that settles in your chest, heavy and sharp, like all the places you’ve ever loved are still inside you, tearing at your ribs to get out. You carry them everywhere. The house you ran from.
It doesn’t hurt. Hurt is too soft, too small. This is a void— a black hole tearing through my chest, eating everything I was. It’s not just empty; it’s endless. Nothing fills it, and you know nothing will. It’s punishment, brutal and sharp, like a dagger driven through a vampire’s heart— not for a crime, but for needing to feed. It crushed me. It fed me to demons. It scraped love from my ribs,
I will not paint thee soft with golden phrase Nor dress thy flaws in satin metaphors Love is no angel born of heaven’s haze But earth-bound flesh that aches, and tears, and roars. Thou art not flawless, neither am I whole. We crash like waves, then sink beneath the tide Yet in thy storm, I find my anchor’d soul A place where rawest truths dos still abide. Speak not of stars or roses in their bloom Love lies in shadows where we bare our scars It is the flame that feeds as a thousand stars.
they don’t yell at me they yell about me like I’m a math problem neither of them can solve. my grades are collapsing like lungs in the last breath of a drowning i am sinking and the water is quiet my body a hollow house every room dark but somehow still too much to carry. when I speak they flinch When I’m silent they forget I’m here. I feel the weight of myself pressing into the earth it presses back like it wants me gone too
You entered my life like the swell of an overture A dancer stepping into the light bearing the weight of a thousand unspoken things Your plié was not just a bend It was the earth itself lowering for you each tendu traced longing into the air and grief, with its quiet hands pulled the strings of your arabesque. I tried to follow you into the dance but your pirouette was the moon spinning away
I did not find you in the way they find each other with their shallow hands and hurried hearts I found you like a lost language buried in the earth every word unfamiliar yet known to me in some ancient part of my being. They only know the fire that devours. But in you I found the heat that lingers after the embers die the warmth that keeps a body alive
Ring a ring a rosie, whispers turn to dust, one by one, they fade away—. we do what we must. Pocket full of echoes, laughter laced in dread, holding hands through empty rooms, bound by threads of red. Ashes, ashes— we watch them fall, fingers slipping softly, no strength left to call. And we all fall down, one breath at a time, the circle grows smaller, a twisted nursery rhyme.
I keep waiting for that fabled pause The quiet corner where I’ll meet myself Yet I’m a stranger brushing by in a crowd Just an echo left unclaimed They say to find yourself is simple Like opening your eyes to morning light But here I’m a blur, a fading song The shadow cast by someone else’s sun. I hold all the night fragments A laugh here, a memory there The name I sign in practiced ink
They weave blankets of words, Thick, layered, as though they know my cold, Yet never felt my winter’s breath, Sharp edges I grew from, scars beneath the gold. They talk of pride, a shell they think I wear, As if the weight of survival makes me rich, As if my English tongue could unwrite The stories inked in the silence of my skin. They’ll never feel the nights I bled for dawn,
It felt like I was drowning, Choking on water as it slowly filled my lungs. The current pulled harder, coldness numbing my skin, While fish brushed against my leg, Welcoming me into their silent, dark home. Their touch was soft, yet the weight of the depths dragged me down, Eyes closing, I tried to call for help, But my voice was swallowed by waves, Lost in a vast, echoing sound.