If we were only ever transactional
and I offered you the whole of my being,
would it set things right?
If you were to name the debt—
I would produce the very marrow of my soul,
I forfeit it to you.
Deplete me,
Bind me,
Break me,
Take from me what you believe is fair—
I would show you what lies beneath my ribs,
in all its timid motions,
struggling to beat its pain away.
2d ago
Jun 2, 2026 at 3:46 PM UTC
I bleed for this art
Spill my blood for it
Using it to write each poem I bitterly declared my last
Telling myself that if I bleed long enough
Expend enough of myself
Write just one more line—
It would be evidence I cared
I have crucified myself for this art
Begging for the cup to pass
With each lash from my tongue,
Flesh rent from my back—
It would be evidence I suffered
I face an indifferent judge for this art
Chasing a verdict that will never come
Because if I pass judgment,
Confirm my guilt—
It would finally be evidence I failed
Instead I am led by phantoms who whisper in the still of night—
Here is torment but not death
3d ago
Jun 1, 2026 at 10:47 AM UTC
In a way, my world has become haunted.
Not in the supernatural sense,
But in the way a room feels different
After someone has left.
You walk into a museum
And your mind reaches for the person
Who should be standing beside you.
You find an interesting anecdote
And think of the one
Who would have appreciated it.
Soon, interest itself seems poisoned.
And so I turn to the one place
Where loss can be metabolized.
Writing, after all,
Was always fundamentally mine.
Even when I feel
I have lost custody
Of whole pieces of myself—
Pieces I cannot reach,
Because every path toward them
Passes through grief.
Writing is the tool
With which I will untangle them.
4d ago
May 31, 2026 at 8:14 PM UTC
Is love quantifiable?
Would you have me drain the sea?
Tell you it cannot be measured
Endless grains,
Remains of a dried up ocean.
Is love about grand gestures?
Plunging the world into darkness
Ripping the veil that separates us from heaven
To show you the vast array of stars?
Or is love found in the quiet and still?
In the timid motions of a shy heart—
struggling to beat its pain away?
4d ago
May 31, 2026 at 7:17 PM UTC
You came carrying reinvention,
wore it like a second skin.
Not the kind in mythology—
not a grand becoming,
but the quiet violence of survival.
You taught yourself to live when so many disappeared.
In you,
I saw a life that survived itself
Next to the ghost of my own
Ripped stitches, frayed ends
Our cut threads so similar—
They must have been of the same tapestry
Even if we were careful, courteous,
This untangling would have nicked our hearts
I am a maze of contradiction
Fashioned from a life of postponements
Each path leading back
To this final act—
Tomorrow is where lies go
to disguise themselves as intention
4d ago
May 31, 2026 at 6:49 PM UTC
What do you do
When you carry it so intensely
That it becomes identity?
I never learned to recognize my own wants as legitimate.
I learned to provide value.
To listen.
To help.
To become the person others came to.
Those skills reward never asking.
But what do I want?
And when there was something I wanted—
Not because it was useful.
Not because it solved a problem.
Not because it earned approval—
I stopped analyzing life
And began participating in it.
I have never known how to live
Without justifying my existence
To an invisible court.
5d ago
May 30, 2026 at 8:34 PM UTC
Lie to me,
Tell me I deserve to be here
Tell me I am free
Tell me I can still choose who I become
Tell me I am loved
6d ago
May 29, 2026 at 7:23 PM UTC
I am the echo of old pain that never learned how to fade.
Trained to speak in metaphor because the truth felt too sharp—
perhaps that’s the child in me.
They call me mysterious,
but really,
I am protecting the parts that still shake
There are storms inside me that no one has ever sat through.
***
In you,
I saw reinvention in its rawest form
Shedding your skin and becoming someone different wasn’t a choice—
it was survival
Having to keep your softness hidden because the wrong people try to crush it.
The wars you fought in the name of self preservation,
and the cost of each scar
How you asked only for honesty,
and even for me—
The price too high
***
For the harm I have caused and now regret
For the pain I have inflicted upon you
For love I would have carried your sins,
In justice I will show you mine.
7d ago
May 28, 2026 at 9:40 PM UTC
I write to hurt myself again,
To press my fingertip into the wound.
I write to invite the voices in—
To wrestle with the angel,
To hear the devil offer me a city,
To feel you,
To confirm I am still breathing.
7d ago
May 28, 2026 at 6:01 PM UTC
“I can tell you are a genuine person”
“I can tell you are honest”
I must plead,
With everyone I meet:
“You do not know what I have done”
“You cannot trust me”
“I have hurt people”
It started small,
“I am fine”
“I don’t need anything”
“It doesn’t hurt”
Until I became numb to the lies
I am a storyteller at heart—
Yet I cannot find the author behind the mask
May 27
May 27, 2026 at 10:33 AM UTC