DRK_POET - Hello Poetry

I’ve never felt secure in any arms, never found safety that didn’t ask for silence. Love has always been a ghost I chased through hallways lined with fear— fear of being alone, fear of not being enough, fear of being too much. I come with baggage— heavy, weathered, stitched with old pain. You could’ve walked away. But you didn’t. You stayed. You looked at the weight I carry and instead of turning, you offered to hold some of it. I trust you with every frayed thread of my being. Every inch of me— every broken shard of my heart, every flicker of my soul— I place in your hands. Everything I am, everything I have, is yours— yours to keep. yours to love. yours to break. You hold all the power, mi vida, And im giving you all of me— Mind, body, heart and soul— Because for the first time in what feels like forever— I’m not afraid to love— and be loved. I love you, Bunny. <3

0

Oct 28, 2025

Oct 28, 2025 at 3:11 AM UTC

DRK_POET

Mi Vida

I’ve never felt secure in any arms, never found safety that didn’t ask for silence. Love has always been a ghost I chased through hallways lined with fear— fear of being alone, fear of not being enough, fear of being too much. I come with baggage— heavy, weathered, stitched with old pain. You could’ve walked away. But you didn’t. You stayed. You looked at the weight I carry and instead of turning, you offered to hold some of it. I trust you with every frayed thread of my being. Every inch of me— every broken shard of my heart, every flicker of my soul— I place in your hands. Everything I am, everything I have, is yours— yours to keep. yours to love. yours to break. You hold all the power, mi vida, And im giving you all of me— Mind, body, heart and soul— Because for the first time in what feels like forever— I’m not afraid to love— and be loved. I love you, Bunny. <3

34

𝕀 𝕨𝕒𝕤𝕟’𝕥 𝕝𝕠𝕠𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕗𝕠𝕣 𝕞𝕒𝕘𝕚𝕔, 𝔹𝕦𝕥 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕤𝕙𝕠𝕨𝕖𝕕 𝕦𝕡 𝕒𝕟𝕪𝕨𝕒𝕪. 𝕎𝕖 𝕨𝕖𝕣𝕖 𝕠𝕡𝕡𝕠𝕤𝕚𝕥𝕖𝕤, 𝔹𝕦𝕥 𝔾𝕠𝕕, 𝕕𝕚𝕕𝕟’𝕥 𝕨𝕖 𝕝𝕠𝕠𝕜 𝕓𝕖𝕒𝕦𝕥𝕚𝕗𝕦𝕝 𝕚𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕒𝕞𝕖 𝕝𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥? 𝕋𝕙𝕣𝕖𝕖 𝕞𝕠𝕟𝕥𝕙𝕤 𝕠𝕗 𝕨𝕠𝕣𝕕𝕤, 𝕆𝕗 𝕤𝕠𝕗𝕥 𝕝𝕒𝕦𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕣𝕠𝕦𝕘𝕙 𝕤𝕔𝕣𝕖𝕖𝕟𝕤, 𝕆𝕗 𝕨𝕠𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕚𝕗 𝕪𝕠𝕦’𝕕 𝕗𝕖𝕖𝕝 𝔸𝕤 𝕘𝕠𝕠𝕕 𝕒𝕤 𝕪𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕧𝕠𝕚𝕔𝕖 𝕤𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕕. 𝔸𝕟𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕟— 𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕞𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕟𝕥 𝕗𝕒𝕥𝕖 𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕡𝕡𝕖𝕕 𝕚𝕟— 𝕐𝕠𝕦 𝕨𝕒𝕝𝕜𝕖𝕕 𝕚𝕟𝕥𝕠 𝕞𝕪 𝕨𝕠𝕣𝕝𝕕, 𝔸𝕟𝕕 𝕤𝕦𝕕𝕕𝕖𝕟𝕝𝕪 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕖𝕝𝕤𝕖 𝕞𝕒𝕥𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕖𝕕. 𝕐𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕤𝕔𝕖𝕟𝕥—𝕚𝕟𝕥𝕠𝕩𝕚𝕔𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘— 𝕃𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕖𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕝𝕚𝕜𝕖 𝕒 𝕞𝕖𝕞𝕠𝕣𝕪 𝕀 𝕟𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕣 𝕨𝕒𝕟𝕥 𝕥𝕠 𝕗𝕠𝕣𝕘𝕖𝕥. 𝕐𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕖𝕪𝕖𝕤, 𝕕𝕖𝕖𝕡 𝕖𝕟𝕠𝕦𝕘𝕙 𝕥𝕠 𝕘𝕖𝕥 𝕝𝕠𝕤𝕥 𝕚𝕟, 𝕊𝕒𝕗𝕖 𝕖𝕟𝕠𝕦𝕘𝕙 𝕤𝕠 𝕀 𝕕𝕚𝕕𝕟’𝕥 𝕨𝕒𝕟𝕟𝕒 𝕓𝕖 𝕗𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕕. 𝕐𝕠𝕦 𝕥𝕠𝕦𝕔𝕙𝕖𝕕 𝕞𝕖 𝕝𝕚𝕜𝕖 𝕀 𝕨𝕒𝕤 𝕓𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕜𝕒𝕓𝕝𝕖, 𝕐𝕠𝕦 𝕜𝕚𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕕 𝕞𝕖 𝕝𝕚𝕜𝕖 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕒𝕝𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕪 𝕜𝕟𝕖𝕨 ℍ𝕠𝕨 𝕝𝕠𝕟𝕘 𝕀 𝕙𝕒𝕕 𝕨𝕒𝕚𝕥𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕠 𝕗𝕖𝕖𝕝 𝕤𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕝. 𝔸𝕟𝕕 𝕀 𝕗𝕝𝕠𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕕—𝕟𝕠𝕥 𝕒𝕨𝕒𝕪 𝕗𝕣𝕠𝕞 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕨𝕠𝕣𝕝𝕕, 𝔹𝕦𝕥 𝕕𝕖𝕖𝕡𝕖𝕣 𝕚𝕟𝕥𝕠 𝕚𝕥, 𝔹𝕖𝕔𝕒𝕦𝕤𝕖 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕨𝕖𝕣𝕖 𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕖 𝕟𝕠𝕨. 𝕐𝕠𝕦 𝕕𝕚𝕕𝕟’𝕥 𝕣𝕦𝕤𝕙 𝕚𝕟 𝕝𝕚𝕜𝕖 𝕒 𝕤𝕥𝕠𝕣𝕞. 𝕐𝕠𝕦 𝕒𝕣𝕣𝕚𝕧𝕖𝕕 𝕝𝕚𝕜𝕖 𝕡𝕖𝕒𝕔𝕖, 𝔸𝕟𝕕 𝕗𝕠𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕗𝕚𝕣𝕤𝕥 𝕥𝕚𝕞𝕖 𝕚𝕟 𝕤𝕠 𝕝𝕠𝕟𝕘, 𝕄𝕪 𝕥𝕙𝕠𝕦𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕤 𝕨𝕖𝕣𝕖 𝕤𝕚𝕝𝕖𝕟𝕥. ℕ𝕠𝕥 𝕓𝕖𝕔𝕒𝕦𝕤𝕖 𝕀 𝕨𝕒𝕤 𝕖𝕞𝕡𝕥𝕪, 𝔹𝕦𝕥 𝕓𝕖𝕔𝕒𝕦𝕤𝕖 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕨𝕖𝕣𝕖 𝕖𝕟𝕠𝕦𝕘𝕙 𝕋𝕠 𝕗𝕚𝕝𝕝 𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕪 𝕔𝕠𝕣𝕟𝕖𝕣 𝕠𝕗 𝕞𝕪 𝕞𝕚𝕟𝕕— 𝕎𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕤𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕤𝕠𝕗𝕥𝕖𝕣, 𝕤𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕓𝕖𝕒𝕦𝕥𝕚𝕗𝕦𝕝. 𝕐𝕠𝕦, 𝕓𝕝𝕦𝕖—𝕪𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕗𝕒𝕧𝕠𝕣𝕚𝕥𝕖, 𝕔𝕒𝕝𝕞 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕤𝕦𝕣𝕖. 𝕄𝕖, 𝕣𝕖𝕕—𝕝𝕠𝕦𝕕 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕓𝕦𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕚𝕟 𝕒𝕝𝕝 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕡𝕝𝕒𝕔𝕖𝕤 𝕀 𝕓𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕜. 𝔹𝕦𝕥 𝕥𝕠𝕘𝕖𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕣, 𝕨𝕖 𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕞𝕞𝕖𝕣𝕖𝕕 𝕝𝕚𝕜𝕖 𝕒 𝕡𝕦𝕣𝕡𝕝𝕖 𝕤𝕜𝕪 𝕒𝕥 𝕕𝕦𝕤𝕜— 𝕓𝕣𝕚𝕖𝕗, 𝕓𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕥𝕙𝕥𝕒𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘, 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕞𝕖𝕒𝕟𝕥 𝕥𝕠 𝕓𝕖 𝕤𝕖𝕖𝕟. 𝔸𝕟𝕕 𝕛𝕦𝕤𝕥 𝕝𝕚𝕜𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥, 𝔼𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕪𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕀 𝕜𝕟𝕖𝕨 𝕒𝕓𝕠𝕦𝕥 𝕝𝕠𝕧𝕖 𝕔𝕙𝕒𝕟𝕘𝕖𝕕— 𝕊𝕦𝕕𝕕𝕖𝕟𝕝𝕪, 𝕐𝕠𝕦.

0

Sep 16, 2025

Sep 16, 2025 at 12:18 AM UTC

DRK_POET

Suddenly, You

𝕀 𝕨𝕒𝕤𝕟’𝕥 𝕝𝕠𝕠𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕗𝕠𝕣 𝕞𝕒𝕘𝕚𝕔, 𝔹𝕦𝕥 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕤𝕙𝕠𝕨𝕖𝕕 𝕦𝕡 𝕒𝕟𝕪𝕨𝕒𝕪. 𝕎𝕖 𝕨𝕖𝕣𝕖 𝕠𝕡𝕡𝕠𝕤𝕚𝕥𝕖𝕤, 𝔹𝕦𝕥 𝔾𝕠𝕕, 𝕕𝕚𝕕𝕟’𝕥 𝕨𝕖 𝕝𝕠𝕠𝕜 𝕓𝕖𝕒𝕦𝕥𝕚𝕗𝕦𝕝 𝕚𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕒𝕞𝕖 𝕝𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥? 𝕋𝕙𝕣𝕖𝕖 𝕞𝕠𝕟𝕥𝕙𝕤 𝕠𝕗 𝕨𝕠𝕣𝕕𝕤, 𝕆𝕗 𝕤𝕠𝕗𝕥 𝕝𝕒𝕦𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕣𝕠𝕦𝕘𝕙 𝕤𝕔𝕣𝕖𝕖𝕟𝕤, 𝕆𝕗 𝕨𝕠𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕚𝕗 𝕪𝕠𝕦’𝕕 𝕗𝕖𝕖𝕝 𝔸𝕤 𝕘𝕠𝕠𝕕 𝕒𝕤 𝕪𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕧𝕠𝕚𝕔𝕖 𝕤𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕕. 𝔸𝕟𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕟— 𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕞𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕟𝕥 𝕗𝕒𝕥𝕖 𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕡𝕡𝕖𝕕 𝕚𝕟— 𝕐𝕠𝕦 𝕨𝕒𝕝𝕜𝕖𝕕 𝕚𝕟𝕥𝕠 𝕞𝕪 𝕨𝕠𝕣𝕝𝕕, 𝔸𝕟𝕕 𝕤𝕦𝕕𝕕𝕖𝕟𝕝𝕪 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕖𝕝𝕤𝕖 𝕞𝕒𝕥𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕖𝕕. 𝕐𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕤𝕔𝕖𝕟𝕥—𝕚𝕟𝕥𝕠𝕩𝕚𝕔𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘— 𝕃𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕖𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕝𝕚𝕜𝕖 𝕒 𝕞𝕖𝕞𝕠𝕣𝕪 𝕀 𝕟𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕣 𝕨𝕒𝕟𝕥 𝕥𝕠 𝕗𝕠𝕣𝕘𝕖𝕥. 𝕐𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕖𝕪𝕖𝕤, 𝕕𝕖𝕖𝕡 𝕖𝕟𝕠𝕦𝕘𝕙 𝕥𝕠 𝕘𝕖𝕥 𝕝𝕠𝕤𝕥 𝕚𝕟, 𝕊𝕒𝕗𝕖 𝕖𝕟𝕠𝕦𝕘𝕙 𝕤𝕠 𝕀 𝕕𝕚𝕕𝕟’𝕥 𝕨𝕒𝕟𝕟𝕒 𝕓𝕖 𝕗𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕕. 𝕐𝕠𝕦 𝕥𝕠𝕦𝕔𝕙𝕖𝕕 𝕞𝕖 𝕝𝕚𝕜𝕖 𝕀 𝕨𝕒𝕤 𝕓𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕜𝕒𝕓𝕝𝕖, 𝕐𝕠𝕦 𝕜𝕚𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕕 𝕞𝕖 𝕝𝕚𝕜𝕖 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕒𝕝𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕪 𝕜𝕟𝕖𝕨 ℍ𝕠𝕨 𝕝𝕠𝕟𝕘 𝕀 𝕙𝕒𝕕 𝕨𝕒𝕚𝕥𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕠 𝕗𝕖𝕖𝕝 𝕤𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕝. 𝔸𝕟𝕕 𝕀 𝕗𝕝𝕠𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕕—𝕟𝕠𝕥 𝕒𝕨𝕒𝕪 𝕗𝕣𝕠𝕞 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕨𝕠𝕣𝕝𝕕, 𝔹𝕦𝕥 𝕕𝕖𝕖𝕡𝕖𝕣 𝕚𝕟𝕥𝕠 𝕚𝕥, 𝔹𝕖𝕔𝕒𝕦𝕤𝕖 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕨𝕖𝕣𝕖 𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕖 𝕟𝕠𝕨. 𝕐𝕠𝕦 𝕕𝕚𝕕𝕟’𝕥 𝕣𝕦𝕤𝕙 𝕚𝕟 𝕝𝕚𝕜𝕖 𝕒 𝕤𝕥𝕠𝕣𝕞. 𝕐𝕠𝕦 𝕒𝕣𝕣𝕚𝕧𝕖𝕕 𝕝𝕚𝕜𝕖 𝕡𝕖𝕒𝕔𝕖, 𝔸𝕟𝕕 𝕗𝕠𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕗𝕚𝕣𝕤𝕥 𝕥𝕚𝕞𝕖 𝕚𝕟 𝕤𝕠 𝕝𝕠𝕟𝕘, 𝕄𝕪 𝕥𝕙𝕠𝕦𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕤 𝕨𝕖𝕣𝕖 𝕤𝕚𝕝𝕖𝕟𝕥. ℕ𝕠𝕥 𝕓𝕖𝕔𝕒𝕦𝕤𝕖 𝕀 𝕨𝕒𝕤 𝕖𝕞𝕡𝕥𝕪, 𝔹𝕦𝕥 𝕓𝕖𝕔𝕒𝕦𝕤𝕖 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕨𝕖𝕣𝕖 𝕖𝕟𝕠𝕦𝕘𝕙 𝕋𝕠 𝕗𝕚𝕝𝕝 𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕪 𝕔𝕠𝕣𝕟𝕖𝕣 𝕠𝕗 𝕞𝕪 𝕞𝕚𝕟𝕕— 𝕎𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕤𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕤𝕠𝕗𝕥𝕖𝕣, 𝕤𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕓𝕖𝕒𝕦𝕥𝕚𝕗𝕦𝕝. 𝕐𝕠𝕦, 𝕓𝕝𝕦𝕖—𝕪𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕗𝕒𝕧𝕠𝕣𝕚𝕥𝕖, 𝕔𝕒𝕝𝕞 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕤𝕦𝕣𝕖. 𝕄𝕖, 𝕣𝕖𝕕—𝕝𝕠𝕦𝕕 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕓𝕦𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕚𝕟 𝕒𝕝𝕝 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕡𝕝𝕒𝕔𝕖𝕤 𝕀 𝕓𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕜. 𝔹𝕦𝕥 𝕥𝕠𝕘𝕖𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕣, 𝕨𝕖 𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕞𝕞𝕖𝕣𝕖𝕕 𝕝𝕚𝕜𝕖 𝕒 𝕡𝕦𝕣𝕡𝕝𝕖 𝕤𝕜𝕪 𝕒𝕥 𝕕𝕦𝕤𝕜— 𝕓𝕣𝕚𝕖𝕗, 𝕓𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕥𝕙𝕥𝕒𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘, 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕞𝕖𝕒𝕟𝕥 𝕥𝕠 𝕓𝕖 𝕤𝕖𝕖𝕟. 𝔸𝕟𝕕 𝕛𝕦𝕤𝕥 𝕝𝕚𝕜𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥, 𝔼𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕪𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕀 𝕜𝕟𝕖𝕨 𝕒𝕓𝕠𝕦𝕥 𝕝𝕠𝕧𝕖 𝕔𝕙𝕒𝕟𝕘𝕖𝕕— 𝕊𝕦𝕕𝕕𝕖𝕟𝕝𝕪, 𝕐𝕠𝕦.

35

𝐻𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝒽𝑒𝒶𝓇𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒷𝒾𝓇𝒹𝓈𝑜𝓃𝑔 𝒶𝓉 𝒹𝒶𝓌𝓃? 𝒯𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓈𝑜𝒻𝓉 𝒸𝒽𝑜𝓇𝓊𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒸𝑜𝒶𝓍𝑒𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝓁𝒹 𝒶𝓌𝒶𝓀𝑒— 𝐹𝓇𝒶𝑔𝒾𝓁𝑒, 𝒻𝓁𝑒𝑒𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔— 𝒴𝑒𝓉 𝓈𝑜𝓂𝑒𝒽𝑜𝓌 𝑒𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓃𝒶𝓁? 𝒪𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒽𝓊𝓈𝒽 𝑜𝒻 𝓌𝒶𝓋𝑒𝓈 𝒞𝑜𝓁𝓁𝒾𝒹𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝒿𝒶𝑔𝑔𝑒𝒹 𝓇𝑜𝒸𝓀, 𝒜 𝓇𝒽𝓎𝓉𝒽𝓂 𝓈𝑜 𝒶𝓃𝒸𝒾𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝐼𝓉 𝒻𝑒𝑒𝓁𝓈 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒 𝒷𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔? 𝐻𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓈𝑒𝑒𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝓊𝓃 𝓀𝒾𝓈𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒸𝓇𝑒𝓈𝓉 𝑜𝒻 𝒶 𝓂𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉𝒶𝒾𝓃, 𝒞𝒶𝓈𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝑔𝑜𝓁𝒹𝑒𝓃 𝒷𝓁𝓊𝓈𝒽— 𝒜𝓃 𝒶𝓁𝓅𝑒𝓃𝑔𝓁𝑜𝓌, 𝒯𝑒𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓇𝒶𝓇𝑒? 𝒪𝓇 𝒻𝓇𝑜𝓈𝓉 𝓁𝒶𝒸𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝑔𝓇𝑒𝑒𝓃 𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓋𝑒𝓈 𝒪𝓃 𝒶 𝓌𝒾𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝓂𝑜𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔, 𝐹𝓇𝒶𝑔𝒾𝓁𝑒 𝓁𝒶𝒸𝑒𝓌𝑜𝓇𝓀, 𝒲𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓃 𝒷𝓎 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒸𝑜𝓁𝒹? 𝒴𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓋𝑜𝒾𝒸𝑒, 𝓉𝑜 𝓂𝑒, 𝐼𝓈 𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓎 𝑜𝓃𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓈𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈. 𝒜 𝓈𝓎𝓂𝓅𝒽𝑜𝓃𝓎 𝐼 𝒸𝓇𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝓉𝓊𝓇𝓃 𝓊𝓅 𝓁𝑜𝓊𝒹𝑒𝓇, 𝒯𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝓁𝑜𝓊𝒹𝑒𝓇 𝓈𝓉𝒾𝓁𝓁— 𝒰𝓃𝓉𝒾𝓁 𝒾𝓉 𝒹𝓇𝑜𝓌𝓃𝓈 𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓎𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊. 𝒜𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓈𝓂𝒾𝓁𝑒— 𝒢𝑜𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓈𝓂𝒾𝓁𝑒— 𝐼𝓉’𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝑔𝓁𝑜𝓌 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒷𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓀𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝓇𝑜𝓊𝑔𝒽 𝓂𝓎 𝒹𝒾𝓂𝓂𝑒𝒹 𝓈𝓀𝓎. 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓂𝓉𝒽 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓈𝑒𝒶𝓁𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒸𝓇𝒶𝒸𝓀𝑒𝒹 𝓅𝓁𝒶𝒸𝑒𝓈, 𝒜𝓃𝒹 𝓂𝒶𝓀𝑒𝓈 𝓂𝑒 𝒷𝑒𝓁𝒾𝑒𝓋𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓎 𝓂𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝒷𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓀 𝒶𝑔𝒶𝒾𝓃. 𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒽𝓊𝓈𝒽 𝒷𝑒𝓉𝓌𝑒𝑒𝓃 𝒽𝑒𝒶𝓇𝓉𝒷𝑒𝒶𝓉𝓈, 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝓉𝒾𝓁𝓁𝓃𝑒𝓈𝓈 𝒶𝒻𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝓈𝓃𝑜𝓌. 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝓀𝒾𝓃𝒹 𝑜𝒻 𝓈𝒾𝓁𝑒𝓃𝒸𝑒 𝒯𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓈𝒶𝓎𝓈 𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓎𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔. 𝒴𝑜𝓊’𝓇𝑒 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝒹𝒻𝓁𝑜𝓌𝑒𝓇𝓈 𝑔𝓇𝑜𝓌𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝒽𝓇𝑜𝓊𝑔𝒽 𝒸𝑜𝓃𝒸𝓇𝑒𝓉𝑒. 𝑅𝒶𝒾𝓃 𝓀𝒾𝓈𝓈𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓈𝓊𝓃𝒷𝓊𝓇𝓃𝓉 𝓈𝓀𝒾𝓃. 𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝑜𝑜𝓃 𝓇𝒾𝓈𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝑜𝒸𝑒𝒶𝓃, 𝒟𝓇𝒶𝑔𝑔𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓈𝒾𝓁𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝒶𝒸𝓇𝑜𝓈𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝒶𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝐿𝒾𝓀𝑒 𝒶 𝓅𝓇𝑜𝓂𝒾𝓈𝑒. 𝒜𝓃𝒹 𝓂𝑒? 𝐼’𝓂 𝒿𝓊𝓈𝓉 𝓈𝑜𝓂𝑒𝑜𝓃𝑒 𝓌𝒽𝑜 𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓃𝒹𝓈 𝒾𝓃 𝒶𝓌e— 𝐵𝒶𝓇𝑒𝒻𝑜𝑜𝓉 𝒾𝓃 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓈𝓉𝑜𝓇𝓂, 𝒢𝓇𝒶𝓉𝑒𝒻𝓊𝓁 𝓉𝑜 𝒻𝑒𝑒𝓁 𝒶𝓃𝓎𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒜𝓉 𝒶𝓁𝓁.

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Sep 9, 2025

Sep 9, 2025 at 5:37 PM UTC

DRK_POET

Everything But You.

𝐻𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝒽𝑒𝒶𝓇𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒷𝒾𝓇𝒹𝓈𝑜𝓃𝑔 𝒶𝓉 𝒹𝒶𝓌𝓃? 𝒯𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓈𝑜𝒻𝓉 𝒸𝒽𝑜𝓇𝓊𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒸𝑜𝒶𝓍𝑒𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝓁𝒹 𝒶𝓌𝒶𝓀𝑒— 𝐹𝓇𝒶𝑔𝒾𝓁𝑒, 𝒻𝓁𝑒𝑒𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔— 𝒴𝑒𝓉 𝓈𝑜𝓂𝑒𝒽𝑜𝓌 𝑒𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓃𝒶𝓁? 𝒪𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒽𝓊𝓈𝒽 𝑜𝒻 𝓌𝒶𝓋𝑒𝓈 𝒞𝑜𝓁𝓁𝒾𝒹𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝒿𝒶𝑔𝑔𝑒𝒹 𝓇𝑜𝒸𝓀, 𝒜 𝓇𝒽𝓎𝓉𝒽𝓂 𝓈𝑜 𝒶𝓃𝒸𝒾𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝐼𝓉 𝒻𝑒𝑒𝓁𝓈 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒 𝒷𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔? 𝐻𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓈𝑒𝑒𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝓊𝓃 𝓀𝒾𝓈𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒸𝓇𝑒𝓈𝓉 𝑜𝒻 𝒶 𝓂𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉𝒶𝒾𝓃, 𝒞𝒶𝓈𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝑔𝑜𝓁𝒹𝑒𝓃 𝒷𝓁𝓊𝓈𝒽— 𝒜𝓃 𝒶𝓁𝓅𝑒𝓃𝑔𝓁𝑜𝓌, 𝒯𝑒𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓇𝒶𝓇𝑒? 𝒪𝓇 𝒻𝓇𝑜𝓈𝓉 𝓁𝒶𝒸𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝑔𝓇𝑒𝑒𝓃 𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓋𝑒𝓈 𝒪𝓃 𝒶 𝓌𝒾𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝓂𝑜𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔, 𝐹𝓇𝒶𝑔𝒾𝓁𝑒 𝓁𝒶𝒸𝑒𝓌𝑜𝓇𝓀, 𝒲𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓃 𝒷𝓎 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒸𝑜𝓁𝒹? 𝒴𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓋𝑜𝒾𝒸𝑒, 𝓉𝑜 𝓂𝑒, 𝐼𝓈 𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓎 𝑜𝓃𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓈𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈. 𝒜 𝓈𝓎𝓂𝓅𝒽𝑜𝓃𝓎 𝐼 𝒸𝓇𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝓉𝓊𝓇𝓃 𝓊𝓅 𝓁𝑜𝓊𝒹𝑒𝓇, 𝒯𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝓁𝑜𝓊𝒹𝑒𝓇 𝓈𝓉𝒾𝓁𝓁— 𝒰𝓃𝓉𝒾𝓁 𝒾𝓉 𝒹𝓇𝑜𝓌𝓃𝓈 𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓎𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊. 𝒜𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓈𝓂𝒾𝓁𝑒— 𝒢𝑜𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓈𝓂𝒾𝓁𝑒— 𝐼𝓉’𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝑔𝓁𝑜𝓌 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒷𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓀𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝓇𝑜𝓊𝑔𝒽 𝓂𝓎 𝒹𝒾𝓂𝓂𝑒𝒹 𝓈𝓀𝓎. 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓂𝓉𝒽 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓈𝑒𝒶𝓁𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒸𝓇𝒶𝒸𝓀𝑒𝒹 𝓅𝓁𝒶𝒸𝑒𝓈, 𝒜𝓃𝒹 𝓂𝒶𝓀𝑒𝓈 𝓂𝑒 𝒷𝑒𝓁𝒾𝑒𝓋𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓎 𝓂𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝒷𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓀 𝒶𝑔𝒶𝒾𝓃. 𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒽𝓊𝓈𝒽 𝒷𝑒𝓉𝓌𝑒𝑒𝓃 𝒽𝑒𝒶𝓇𝓉𝒷𝑒𝒶𝓉𝓈, 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝓉𝒾𝓁𝓁𝓃𝑒𝓈𝓈 𝒶𝒻𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝓈𝓃𝑜𝓌. 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝓀𝒾𝓃𝒹 𝑜𝒻 𝓈𝒾𝓁𝑒𝓃𝒸𝑒 𝒯𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓈𝒶𝓎𝓈 𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓎𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔. 𝒴𝑜𝓊’𝓇𝑒 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝒹𝒻𝓁𝑜𝓌𝑒𝓇𝓈 𝑔𝓇𝑜𝓌𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝒽𝓇𝑜𝓊𝑔𝒽 𝒸𝑜𝓃𝒸𝓇𝑒𝓉𝑒. 𝑅𝒶𝒾𝓃 𝓀𝒾𝓈𝓈𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓈𝓊𝓃𝒷𝓊𝓇𝓃𝓉 𝓈𝓀𝒾𝓃. 𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝑜𝑜𝓃 𝓇𝒾𝓈𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝑜𝒸𝑒𝒶𝓃, 𝒟𝓇𝒶𝑔𝑔𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓈𝒾𝓁𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝒶𝒸𝓇𝑜𝓈𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝒶𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝐿𝒾𝓀𝑒 𝒶 𝓅𝓇𝑜𝓂𝒾𝓈𝑒. 𝒜𝓃𝒹 𝓂𝑒? 𝐼’𝓂 𝒿𝓊𝓈𝓉 𝓈𝑜𝓂𝑒𝑜𝓃𝑒 𝓌𝒽𝑜 𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓃𝒹𝓈 𝒾𝓃 𝒶𝓌e— 𝐵𝒶𝓇𝑒𝒻𝑜𝑜𝓉 𝒾𝓃 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓈𝓉𝑜𝓇𝓂, 𝒢𝓇𝒶𝓉𝑒𝒻𝓊𝓁 𝓉𝑜 𝒻𝑒𝑒𝓁 𝒶𝓃𝓎𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒜𝓉 𝒶𝓁𝓁.

35

It’s always the same. A message. Not a “how are you?” Not a “wanna hang out?” Just— “Can you do this?” “Can you give me that?” And I do. Because I love them. Because I thought family meant more than just being convenient. But I’m a person too. I have long nights, loud thoughts, quiet breakdowns where I wish someone would ask me how I’m holding up. I listen. God, I listen. All day. Every day. I carry stories that aren’t mine, because no one else wants to. It feels like my chest has grown calluses— thick, aching spots where love used to live before it was worn down by constant reaching hands and no reaching hearts. And every time my phone lights up, my chest tightens, breath catches, not from excitement— but like I’ve been winded. Because I already know, it’s not for me, it’s from me that they want something. Maybe I’m too much. Or maybe they just never saw me the way I saw them. It hurts. More than I’ll ever say out loud.

0

Jul 30, 2025

Jul 30, 2025 at 3:12 AM UTC

DRK_POET

I Feel Too (much)

It’s always the same. A message. Not a “how are you?” Not a “wanna hang out?” Just— “Can you do this?” “Can you give me that?” And I do. Because I love them. Because I thought family meant more than just being convenient. But I’m a person too. I have long nights, loud thoughts, quiet breakdowns where I wish someone would ask me how I’m holding up. I listen. God, I listen. All day. Every day. I carry stories that aren’t mine, because no one else wants to. It feels like my chest has grown calluses— thick, aching spots where love used to live before it was worn down by constant reaching hands and no reaching hearts. And every time my phone lights up, my chest tightens, breath catches, not from excitement— but like I’ve been winded. Because I already know, it’s not for me, it’s from me that they want something. Maybe I’m too much. Or maybe they just never saw me the way I saw them. It hurts. More than I’ll ever say out loud.

41

The bottle sits, A quiet invitation, Its glass glinting like a promise I know it cant keep. But still, I reach. I pour. I drink. And its not the taste I crave- Its the silence. The way the edges blur, How the sharp corners of my thoughts Dull into something I can hold Without bleeding. For a moment, I am lighter. For a moment, I am not myself. The hallway stretches out, Bright and forgiving, A place where the weight lifts, Where the air doesn't press so hard Against my chest. i walk there Slow, unsteady steps, My shadow trailing behind me Like it knows the truth. Because the truth is this: I am always circling the same room, The same walls, The same silence that isn't really silent. But instead full of whispers That sounds like my own voice. They tell me I am not enough. They tell me I am too much. And they tell me I am both, And I believe them. But the door at the end- That door- it waits. It always waits. And when it opens, The dark room swallows me whole. Its walls closing in, Its whispers louder than before. I thought I had escaped. I thought I could leave. But the bottle only leads me back To the place i was running from, To the thoughts I drowned That seems to only rise again. Stronger, sharper, Angrier.. And so I drink Not to forget, But to pause. To delay the inevitable return To the room that knows my name, The room that knows the sound of my breaking. I sit there, The bottle heavy in my hand, Its weight a comfort and a curse. I tell myself this is the last time, But I've told myself that before. The hallway calls to me, Its light a cruel trick, A fleeting kindness That never stays. When I'm there again, I'll sit in its silence, Waiting for the bottle to call me back, Knowing it will, Knowing I will answer. And the cycle will begin again- That bright hallway, That dark room, the bottle, and then The breaking. There is no ending here, Only the same story, Told in different words. Still always the same, The bottle sits. I reach. I pour. I drink.

0

Jul 24, 2025

Jul 24, 2025 at 3:25 AM UTC

DRK_POET

Steps Toward Nowhere

The bottle sits, A quiet invitation, Its glass glinting like a promise I know it cant keep. But still, I reach. I pour. I drink. And its not the taste I crave- Its the silence. The way the edges blur, How the sharp corners of my thoughts Dull into something I can hold Without bleeding. For a moment, I am lighter. For a moment, I am not myself. The hallway stretches out, Bright and forgiving, A place where the weight lifts, Where the air doesn't press so hard Against my chest. i walk there Slow, unsteady steps, My shadow trailing behind me Like it knows the truth. Because the truth is this: I am always circling the same room, The same walls, The same silence that isn't really silent. But instead full of whispers That sounds like my own voice. They tell me I am not enough. They tell me I am too much. And they tell me I am both, And I believe them. But the door at the end- That door- it waits. It always waits. And when it opens, The dark room swallows me whole. Its walls closing in, Its whispers louder than before. I thought I had escaped. I thought I could leave. But the bottle only leads me back To the place i was running from, To the thoughts I drowned That seems to only rise again. Stronger, sharper, Angrier.. And so I drink Not to forget, But to pause. To delay the inevitable return To the room that knows my name, The room that knows the sound of my breaking. I sit there, The bottle heavy in my hand, Its weight a comfort and a curse. I tell myself this is the last time, But I've told myself that before. The hallway calls to me, Its light a cruel trick, A fleeting kindness That never stays. When I'm there again, I'll sit in its silence, Waiting for the bottle to call me back, Knowing it will, Knowing I will answer. And the cycle will begin again- That bright hallway, That dark room, the bottle, and then The breaking. There is no ending here, Only the same story, Told in different words. Still always the same, The bottle sits. I reach. I pour. I drink.

84

Time unspools in red threads— veins of the clock, still pulsing long after it stopped. I loved you like a candle loves its own ruin. Wax-kissed. Flame-fed. Afraid of the dark, but terrified to burn forever. Your shadow curls beneath my ribs, whispering if, if, if like a broken pendulum. Each memory a spark that needles my skin— not warmth, just that cruel static ache of something trying to return through numbness. Some nights, I see your name in the firelight and can’t remember if I dreamed you or lost you.

0

Jul 22, 2025

Jul 22, 2025 at 5:51 PM UTC

DRK_POET

Love, a Repeating Wound

Time unspools in red threads— veins of the clock, still pulsing long after it stopped. I loved you like a candle loves its own ruin. Wax-kissed. Flame-fed. Afraid of the dark, but terrified to burn forever. Your shadow curls beneath my ribs, whispering if, if, if like a broken pendulum. Each memory a spark that needles my skin— not warmth, just that cruel static ache of something trying to return through numbness. Some nights, I see your name in the firelight and can’t remember if I dreamed you or lost you.

22

Your eyes are locked doors in a burning house, still standing— but everything inside is ash. No one hears the screams anymore. They flicker like dying lanterns, casting truth across the walls. A glance becomes a funeral. You look away— and the whole world forgets to breathe.

0

Jul 22, 2025

Jul 22, 2025 at 5:15 PM UTC

DRK_POET

Flicker and Ruin

Your eyes are locked doors in a burning house, still standing— but everything inside is ash. No one hears the screams anymore. They flicker like dying lanterns, casting truth across the walls. A glance becomes a funeral. You look away— and the whole world forgets to breathe.

10

When the world closes in, when the weight of it all feels too much, I find the sound. It doesn’t matter where it begins— a single note, a voice, a beat— it wraps around me like a second skin. I turn the volume up, higher, higher, until the voices in my head— the ones that tell me I’m not enough— are drowned in the flood of melody. I let the rhythm take me, let it carve a path through my insecurities, let it silence the noise of doubt. It doesn’t matter the genre. A symphony, a scream, a whisper— it all speaks the same language. It all knows me. The songs say what I can’t, feel what I’m too afraid to feel. Every lyric an open hand, every chord a heartbeat I can follow. I lose myself in it, and somehow, I find myself too. The music doesn’t ask who I am, it doesn’t care what I’ve done. It just is. It holds me steady when the world tilts sideways. And in that moment, there is nothing but the sound. No pain, no fear, no doubt. Just the hum of life, the pulse of love, the escape I never knew I needed. Because music isn’t just sound— it’s a place. A home where I can be whole, where I can be free.

0

Jul 22, 2025

Jul 22, 2025 at 5:13 PM UTC

DRK_POET

Wings of a Song

When the world closes in, when the weight of it all feels too much, I find the sound. It doesn’t matter where it begins— a single note, a voice, a beat— it wraps around me like a second skin. I turn the volume up, higher, higher, until the voices in my head— the ones that tell me I’m not enough— are drowned in the flood of melody. I let the rhythm take me, let it carve a path through my insecurities, let it silence the noise of doubt. It doesn’t matter the genre. A symphony, a scream, a whisper— it all speaks the same language. It all knows me. The songs say what I can’t, feel what I’m too afraid to feel. Every lyric an open hand, every chord a heartbeat I can follow. I lose myself in it, and somehow, I find myself too. The music doesn’t ask who I am, it doesn’t care what I’ve done. It just is. It holds me steady when the world tilts sideways. And in that moment, there is nothing but the sound. No pain, no fear, no doubt. Just the hum of life, the pulse of love, the escape I never knew I needed. Because music isn’t just sound— it’s a place. A home where I can be whole, where I can be free.

39

I miss you. Against my will, against my better judgment, I miss you. It’s a quiet ache, a hollow in my chest that echoes your name. I hate that it’s still there, that you’re still there. You left scars where love should have been. You built walls where trust should have stood. And yet, in the silence of the night, I still hear your voice, soft and cruel, pulling me back to a place I swore I’d never return. You were a storm, beautiful and destructive, and I stood in the eye of it, thinking I could hold you, thinking I could save you. But you tore through me, left me wrecked and raw, and still, I miss you. I shouldn’t. I know I shouldn’t. You don’t deserve the space you take in my mind, the weight you still carry in my heart. But the memories linger, like smoke in an empty room, and I breathe them in, even though they choke me. You taught me how to hurt. You taught me how to break. But I taught myself how to leave. And I won’t go back, not to you, not to the pain, not to the person I was when I loved you. Still, I miss you. And it hurts. But I’ll carry that hurt, because it’s lighter than the burden of you.

0

Jul 22, 2025

Jul 22, 2025 at 5:05 PM UTC

DRK_POET

The Weight of Missing You

I miss you. Against my will, against my better judgment, I miss you. It’s a quiet ache, a hollow in my chest that echoes your name. I hate that it’s still there, that you’re still there. You left scars where love should have been. You built walls where trust should have stood. And yet, in the silence of the night, I still hear your voice, soft and cruel, pulling me back to a place I swore I’d never return. You were a storm, beautiful and destructive, and I stood in the eye of it, thinking I could hold you, thinking I could save you. But you tore through me, left me wrecked and raw, and still, I miss you. I shouldn’t. I know I shouldn’t. You don’t deserve the space you take in my mind, the weight you still carry in my heart. But the memories linger, like smoke in an empty room, and I breathe them in, even though they choke me. You taught me how to hurt. You taught me how to break. But I taught myself how to leave. And I won’t go back, not to you, not to the pain, not to the person I was when I loved you. Still, I miss you. And it hurts. But I’ll carry that hurt, because it’s lighter than the burden of you.

43