You don’t arrive with noise or flare,
no grand display to prove you’re there;
just steady hands, a watchful eye,
and colours where the days ran dry.
You make things live that weren’t before,
pull quiet truths from hidden drawers;
each line you draw, each shade you lay
feels like you’re holding doubt at bay.
And somehow, past the work you show,
there’s more in all the things you do,
a quiet giving, freely made,
no ledger kept, no debts to trade.
You stepped in where the ground gave way,
not asking what you’d get or say,
just saw the need and bridged the space
with open hands and thoughtful grace.
It’s not just art that makes you rare,
it’s how you choose to show you care,
you lift the weight you never claim,
and leave the world less sharp, less strained.
You’ve changed the shape of how I see
what someone good can truly be,
not loud, not forced, not carved above,
but built from action, trust, and love.
So here’s to you; no grand parade,
no borrowed words or debts repaid,
just this: you matter, more than known,
in every life your light has grown.
Apr 26
Apr 26, 2026 at 7:47 AM UTC
We met without a plan or guiding thread,
No map to show the path our steps would tread.
Yet somewhere in the ordinary flow of days,
A lasting bond was formed in quiet ways.
No shared beginning written in our name,
No family line from which we came the same,
And still you stand beside me, strong and true;
A brother, not by blood, but proven through.
You lift my thoughts when doubt begins to grow,
With steady words that carry more than show.
Not loud or forced, but thoughtful, calm, and clear,
The kind of voice I trust when things feel unclear.
In better days, you share in what is bright,
In harder times, you do not step aside.
No need for promise spoken out aloud -
Your consistency alone has said it proud.
And so I hold this truth without disguise:
Some bonds are not defined by blood or ties.
But shaped in trust, in time, in all we weather
A brother is found, and one I keep forever.
Apr 13
Apr 13, 2026 at 8:56 AM UTC
You had no name to fix in place, no history to trace,
just something sudden in the dark that did not leave a face.
The world continued in its state, unchanged in how it seems,
but every path I used to walk now fractures at the seams.
I learned to move with measured steps, to note each door and light,
to map escape in quiet ways before the fall of night.
The ordinary turned exact, each movement held and planned,
as if the ground might give itself away beneath my hand.
There were days reduced to fractions I could barely hold or keep,
where waking felt like trespass and the only peace was sleep.
I counted breath in careful sums, then lost the will to care,
and stood in places edged with thought I couldn’t name out there.
You made of me a passing thing, a story stripped and shown,
a body turned to evidence, a life not fully owned.
And anger, slow and constant, set like metal in a seam,
too low to rise as violence, too fixed to stay unseen.
But you are nothing I can find, no outline I can see,
no past to break, no future where you answer back to me.
And still I carry what you left, though not in ways you knew;
not everything was taken then, not everything was you.
Apr 11
Apr 11, 2026 at 6:57 PM UTC
I didn’t scream the way they say,
Didn’t fight him off or run away.
Just froze beneath a borrowed skin,
While something broke and let him in.
Now every night it comes back around,
Not always sight, but scent and sound.
A song, a breath, a certain air,
And suddenly, he’s still there
.
My body knows before I do,
It stiffens up, turns cold, feels blue.
Like I’m no longer in my bones,
Just trapped inside what memory owns
.
I scrub my skin but feel it stay,
Like something won’t just wash away.
His shadow lingers in my space,
In every silence, every place.
They say “move on,” as if I could,
As if its easy, as if they would.
But healing isn’t clean or fast,
When you’re still living in the past.
Apr 10
Apr 10, 2026 at 12:41 PM UTC
I walk through days that feel the same,
a quiet ache without a name.
The world moves on but I stand still,
caught in shadows I can't unfeel.
A scent, a song, a passing place,
can bring it all back and I have to face.
Not seen, not heard, but always near,
a whisper stitched from pain and fear.
My body held what words could not,
the silent battles that I fought.
Bruised in ways no eye could see,
a storm that lives inside of me.
Apr 9
Apr 9, 2026 at 11:10 AM UTC
Four walls. Same measurements each day,
I’ve learnt them in a careful way,
The corner where the paint thins out,
The mark that looks a bit like doubt.
The light comes on. It hums, then stays,
No difference made to nights or days,
Time isn’t kept by sun or sky,
But by when they pass, and when I lie.
I sit because there’s nothing else,
No forward plan, no versions, selves,
Just waiting without something due,
A task that asks me to stay through.
The door exists, but not for me,
It opens with a certainty,
For footsteps, charts, a glance, a note,
Then shuts again inside my throat.
I count the space from bed to wall,
Three steps, then turn, that’s nearly all,
A life reduced to paced-out ground,
No exit mapped, no edge, no sound.
Mar 26
Mar 26, 2026 at 12:22 PM UTC
The noise is there before I rise,
A swarm that never stills nor dies,
It claws and scrapes along my skull,
A ceaseless, grinding, dreadful lull.
I try to move, but limbs won’t heed,
Each thought outgrows its simple seed,
They twist and tangle, sharp and loud,
A choking, ever-tightening wound.
The hours rot and slip away,
Unused, decayed, a hollow day,
I watch the world from something numb,
Too lost to speak, too tired to run.
Sleep comes thin and breaks apart,
A fragile stitch in fraying dark,
I reach for rest, it turns to air,
And leaves me heavy with despair.
I am a weight I cannot shift,
A sinking, slow, unending drift,
No silence comes, no clean release -
Just noise that never grants me peace.
Mar 24
Mar 24, 2026 at 1:23 PM UTC
The night still clings in threads of black,
a shadow stitched across my back;
it hums with echoes, low and deep,
the kind that wander where I sleep.
My body learned to hide its cries,
wore masks of calm and thin disguise;
yet underneath, the colours spread -
blue storms, green flares, the unheard red.
I walk through days like broken stone,
a ruin others leave alone;
the past comes knocking, sharp and cold,
A thief that’s never grown too old.
The world moves on with brighter skies,
while I tread fog that never dries;
each step a battle, breath a doubt,
a silence screaming from within, not out.
Nov 24, 2025
Nov 24, 2025 at 8:12 AM UTC
The room sinks in like a closing jaw,
baring its teeth at the things I saw;
the air tastes thick, like dust and dread,
a quiet burial for the thoughts I’ve bled.
Nights here stretch with a strangled grin,
a taut black thread pulling tight on skin;
the light on the ceiling hums low and bleak,
like it’s mocking the words I do not speak.
My mind is a cellar stacked with bones -
old decisions rattling in undertones;
they shuffle and clatter in the gloom,
staking their claim on this padded tomb.
Shadows drip down the walls like tar,
slow, deliberate, never far;
they curl around me, thin and sly,
counting the breaths I barely get by.
I feel like a fault line waiting to break,
a silent tremor under a frozen lake;
one wrong thought and the surface cracks,
letting the cold crawl up my back.
Nov 21, 2025
Nov 21, 2025 at 12:40 PM UTC
He didn’t just take a night.
He took the ground from under me,
left cracks in places no one sees,
turned certainty to debris.
I wake carrying the weight of it,
the sense that something vital slipped -
like he reached into the centre of me
and shattered what he'd gripped.
Now every morning is a negotiation
with a world that feels too bright,
a world that carries on untouched
by the ruin of that night.
I move through days as if borrowed,
a version of myself left wafer thin.
My thoughts come back with splinters,
pain lodged beneath my skin.
It feels like he stole everything -
my safety, my trust, my ease.
He left me with the bitter sense
of falling to my knees
in a place no one else can see,
a place I never chose to be.
Nov 19, 2025
Nov 19, 2025 at 12:33 PM UTC