You held me close, our bodies interlaced. I still remember that first touch, our first kiss, and how you ignited a flame in me I thought I’d lost. The ice came off in sheaths. Each time I frantically reached for the last of my shields, they melted through my fingers. Each word, each touch, each kiss - the shields dissipated. I felt myself submerged in emotions I had frozen long ago. I could not rebuild the walls I had relied on for so long. I could not refreeze the waters through which I am now, still, wading.
These waters no longer scare me. I was once terrified of their depth, worried I would drown in them or worse - I would lose you to their current. It wasn’t my own current I needed to fear - it was the one within you, the one I suspect still boils beneath the surface.
I wonder how and whether you continue to wage your war.
I could always tell when you left by your eyes; even in a brief glance, when you’re still physically present, but so very far. My heart laments the pain caused by your who else and what others, the pain caused by my presence in your life.
I wanted only a real chance to navigate this with you. I wanted to study you until I knew every last letter. I wanted to hold you close, safe, protected. I wasn’t afraid of the complications, of traversing these waters with you. I knew the risks and still, I chose to stay. I still chose you, I chose us - even when you couldn’t, even when I knew you were too afraid. Maybe I was a fool for doing so. It changed something innate within me. Something I still haven’t finished identifying and exploring. A sweet salinity in the current.
I can never, would never, force you to do this with me. I could only ask. I accept your choice and your withdrawal, even if I question its origins and resolve. I hope one day the grief will abate, that the nostalgia - of the salt of your skin, the furrow of your brow, the bright hue of your gaze, the weight of you pressed on me - will feel more like a sweet memory than a sharp sword. You are etched upon me. My love for you has become an intrinsic part of who I am and who I’m yet to become.
I hope it was more healing than hurtful. I hope you carry the softness of it within you. I hope its glow brings you warmth whenever you tire of your fight. I hope you continue to find fire within.
For but a fracture, I remain.
Jan 2025
Jan 21
Jan 21, 2026 at 11:36 PM UTC
Hallowed/Hollowed
If you had let me, I would have said you’re right.
Not about all of it, but there is truth in what you wrote. I recognize it. I acknowledge it. You believe Incongruence was born of Inhabitants, but it was not. I have no reason or motive to deceive you. I have misunderstood much, I have let my emotions ahead of me, but I have never tried to deceive you. I have, for close to three years now, earnestly tried to understand. It seems the effort was a failure, but it has always been earnest and well-intentioned.
At times I have regretfully led with anger or hurt or resentment. I have repeatedly admitted my own path is still strewn with obstacles. There is much of the cleared trail I’ve never discussed with you. There are parts of me and my life you know little to nothing about. Never in an attempt to deceive you - in an effort to protect myself. They are not secret; they require more safety and care than I felt present. It isn’t a criticism, it is just a truth. I would have shared them with you if you asked, if there was space and it felt safe. Over a decade of learning and vulnerability still feels much like falling into a frozen lake. Except each time I do it, I realize the lake isn’t frozen and I can swim again. It still terrifies me. I am trying.
I may not understand your specific mechanism of captivity, but I do understand parallels from my own experience. To begin to escape my own internment, I had to learn how to soften the walls. Chemistry, not warfare. I don’t know and won’t pretend to know how it feels for you. If I had been given the opportunity, I would have sat and listened. My swords have long since been stored. Incongruence was not drafted with anger or resentment; it was a release of residual hurt. That doesn’t negate its consequence upon delivery, I acknowledge its weight. I can recognize my need to release it and still recognize it caused injury. I am sorry for it and all of the ways I have ever hurt you.
I do not and never will deny the existence of the Castle or Nobility. Had I the opportunity, I would have openly recognized them with you. I do not believe the Castle and I are still inextricably entwined. We were once enmeshed. The Castle was once my fiercest protector and shield, turned captor. It was as you said. We are not entirely severed - not yet, maybe not ever - but I am not confined within its walls. I tried to show some of that to you, even when it didn’t feel safe. My parley to you. Unpolished, scared, hurt, and exhausted, but sincere. I have never wanted to deceive you.
I stand by what I said and I will leave this be. I still don’t regret loving you or caring about you or trying. The cabin stands and you’ll know the path to find it when, not if, you are released from Nobility’s grasp. While I may not reside within, you’ll find respite there. Maybe moreso in my absence. I built it for us but it is my gift to you, even if I am no longer around to see it. You do deserve all of the love you’ve ever been given. Every drop from Sentiments and others yet unshared. I hope one day you can accept and believe it.
I’m sorry for how this story concludes. I’m sorry for my role in the damage and the hurt and the harm. We may never find a fresh page in a new tome, but I accept that and will never regret falling in love with you. Thank you for giving me the opportunity.
Dec 8, 2025
Dec 8, 2025 at 11:51 PM UTC
“If and if and if.”
I’m returning your white flag. I think you misunderstood. Maybe you grew too accustomed to the version of me who shrank to fit, maybe you never really saw the whole of me and honestly, that’s on me.
What you missed is the fortress that stood before you. With the blinders it seems you still wear, you could not see it, even as you laid your white flag at the gate. Construction began well before you entered this story and never stopped, just narrowly out of sight. You were too enveloped in your own narrative, your own plot, to take in the surroundings. I understand, I understood. I know you now know better.
Mine is not the most majestic fortress, but it is mine and its foundation is resolute. I am resolute. I built this fortress over time, decades, through lessons, healing, resiliency. Its defenses are not as lethal as they once were; I’ve learned it is often more productive to defend through alliances, kindness, intention, love. Lessons I tried to share, even when I faltered in my grace. It proudly wears the scars of prior battles - some won, some lost. Each battle a lesson of its own accord, an opportunity for growth once shrouded in pain and fear.
Something you misunderstood, maybe because you never tried to understand - this is not a place for white flags. This is not a home for surrender - not to me. I don’t accept it. I don’t want your fealty. I told you to aim true. My alliances are not built on white flags; they’re built with banners held high. Courageous, brave intention. Vulnerability in the face of fear. Honesty and compassion in the face of the immeasurable conflicts and loss we’ve all faced.
I told you plainly what I seek: enthusiastic participation, bravery, loyalty, kindness, compassion. The bar truly is not set high, but there is a threshold that must be met. For far too long, I gave grace and accepted less than I should have. It was a disservice to us both. I lost the thread of who I am and what I built. That won’t happen again.
I hope you understand that while you feel may have learned some things about me, there is much left for both of us to learn and appreciate. My lessons are innumerable and rightfully will continue. I accept this with humility.
When you find yourself at my gate again - because I know it is not if but when - you ought to be readily armed with honesty, intention, compassion, kindness, care. Not mired in secrecy, apprehension, or fear.
Come with your banner raised proudly, bravely, and enthusiastically - or don’t come at all.
I accept and deserve nothing less.
Dec 8, 2025
Dec 8, 2025 at 11:50 PM UTC
Exhibitive
Sometimes when things are quiet, I find myself slinking through my museum. I linger at the entryways to old exhibits, scanning for a feeling before passing to the next. Some are shuttered, the relics within them hold memories too painful to revisit. Others are full of joy and I stay a bit longer, cherishing those moments. Light in the dark. Most of the exhibits have titles, names - Ships, Dalliance, Salt, Böol. References for things which feel like a lifetime ago, a different me.
I haven’t sorted one for yours yet.
Too often, and for far too long, I found myself sitting in your exhibit. I would place myself in the center and study the timeline, occasionally drifting to various artifacts. Some trigger a familiar smell or sound. The relics I most gravitate towards immerse me in vivid memories, where the feelings in those moments are alive again. Like it felt meeting your gaze tonight for the first time in months.
They’re not always good feelings, but the bad feels equally important. To remember the dark with the light. To learn from the cycles we threw ourselves into. Bittersweet memories are the most complicated for me; the stone from Rumbling Bald, submerging me in the deep love I felt and the fear I let creep in that evening. The fear that flowed from you and into us. I’ve replayed that memory more times than I can count: the laughter in the hotel the night prior, the kiss in the store, your elation at the top, you telling me I was beautiful over dinner, the quiet on the late night drive home.
It’s one of my most cherished memories, fear and all.
I’ve found myself stalling in your exhibit less these days. Most often I’ll briefly pass through, following a scent or a sound - something to close a loop I’ve been processing. Some displays remain empty, a dusty placard reading ”Coming Soon” sat in the dark. I’ve stopped wondering if they’ll ever be filled, but it does leave things feeling a bit unfinished.
Apt for the context, I suppose.
Dec 8, 2025
Dec 8, 2025 at 11:50 PM UTC
Like a ghost just out of grasp
it strips off another piece of me
Settling for table scraps
Gorging myself on meager crumbs
It will not be satiated.
We are not meant to be
understood in these fragments.
Good luck, I will it.
Good luck, it meanaces,
Good luck good luck good luck
Shield the glow, stagnate in time
Pushed myself off the pedestal
to place you upon it.
Silly girl. Silly me.
While your promises are
as empty a substance as dead air,
I know that every word you tell yourself is true.
Only facts can tell you how
to destroy a simple thing,
and you tried to destroy the last simple piece of me I ever knew.
Good luck, good luck, good luck
It will be an honor to grieve you,
as it means I was able to love you.
Nov 17, 2025
Nov 17, 2025 at 12:07 AM UTC
How do you begin to grieve the living?
I’ve never even learned to grieve my dead.
That feels like a lifetime ago.
I slid the note aside,
your words cut to the bone.
The way I thought I fell,
how I felt it would never settle.
What was I looking for in all the yearning?
I hold this grief to my chest as armor,
guarding the hope,
the memories that lay within,
if one day our stories find each other again.
I learned how
she showed me how
to pour myself out, a cup at a time.
Time the steep, temp the heat,
dash of honey, squeeze of lemon,
mask the bitterness.
My bitterness. My mask.
Makes for a more palatable taste.
Lessons learned by way of biting consequence.
More lore left untold.
I anxiously anticipate the distance, the cold,
a pleasant excuse to feel numb.
When there’s space, when you’re just gone,
no one notices when you’re adrift.
Maybe one day I’ll feel rooted;
nurtured in healing, hope, sacrifice,
commitment.
“A love story for the ages!” they’ll say,
“A testament to the strength of tenderness!”
Oct 19, 2025
Oct 19, 2025 at 10:29 PM UTC
Held me the whole ride,
meant so much more
than I knew at the time.
The absence of words, replaced
with soft, subtle intent.
Delicately cloaked, barely noticed it
sink deep into my chest.
Solace in these quiet spaces,
safety in the soft catch.
And while I cannot fill your cup,
I will steady you til it overflows.
Jun 18, 2024
Jun 18, 2024 at 8:21 PM UTC
Lately it feels like I’ve been unearthing
Tiny pieces of myself, swallowed and forgotten
Or hidden deep in my skin.
They push at me like shrapnel
Fragmented memories and
the way my name sounds in your throat.
Something long dormant
Eroding carefully crafted callouses.
The shards of ourselves left behind,
Traces of each other, small impacts.
I wonder what parts of me you kept,
What bits of us remain intact.
It feels different this time
Somehow sharper around all my worn edges.
Mar 9, 2024
Mar 9, 2024 at 9:31 PM UTC
I have searched years for something
whose true nature eludes me
The last night I held you
I knew you were already gone.
I felt you slip away
in the space between our words and bodies.
Don’t ask me how,
I only know you went.
What a fleeting and fickle feeling,
hope.
The idea perhaps one day we will return,
choose to stay despite the damage
Feb 19, 2024
Feb 19, 2024 at 5:42 PM UTC
My feet hit the pedals like they're bricks. The wind flows through my hair like little fingers and I can almost taste the sun as it touches my lips. In this moment, I could go on forever. In this moment, I feel the warmth wrapped around my naked arms. We are one, breathing organism and I can feel every bump and bruise. We're all connected and breathing in each other's exhales; they reverberate through the wind.
I put my hand around your shoulder and somewhere someone feels the warmth. I give in to this idea.
Apr 28, 2011
Apr 28, 2011 at 11:08 AM UTC