im spending too much time thinking
about things i cant ask anymore
for now i will sit here enjoying the taste of nature
the smell of dew and the
sound of crows calling me home in the morning
because i couldn’t bare to sleep
and i will choose to feel what i need to
Mar 17
Mar 17, 2026 at 9:54 AM UTC
my throat is raw
you are too far above me
to hear what i am saying
but you cannot come down without falling
and i know you never learned how to clean a wound,
i know you never needed to
Mar 17
Mar 17, 2026 at 9:53 AM UTC
I wish I wrote more about you
When you were mine.
I want to remember what it felt like
To love you
Mar 17
Mar 17, 2026 at 9:52 AM UTC
my only way of saying sorry
has always been making myself suffer
im sorry for being too much
i tell your lips they can silence me
but your hand will always find its way to my mouth,
instead
i'm sorry i can't give you enough
i tell your heart to say what it needs
but i found no place for me there;
even your stomach does not hunger for me
Mar 17
Mar 17, 2026 at 9:51 AM UTC
The way you make me tremble
is a witch trial,
I am prey, I am hunted, and yet sometimes
I sense you behind me, waiting, unsure if
you dare to strike.
There are moments you hesitate.
I almost believe
we are afraid of each other.
Mar 17
Mar 17, 2026 at 9:49 AM UTC
I learned to live with my ribs slightly open
Just in case something needed a place to sleep
Sometimes it was grief,
Sometimes memory
Sometimes the quiet
I’ve been chasing all my life
I have let the dark crawl in
Just to see if it would remember my name
And I have learned to cradle it in my chest
like it is a child
I cannot save
Mar 17
Mar 17, 2026 at 9:49 AM UTC
Grief left the light on for me,
when I didn't come home in time.
I arrive without ceremony—
he is settled
where dust collects.
I find him later,
already comfortable,
already certain
I would not ask him to leave—
and my body,
exhausted,
sinks into the sheets
without consequence.
In the morning,
Grief was sitting at the table
after the candles burned out.
He has made a home in the
small, quiet
parts I once called joy
Grief keeps rearranging my furniture,
and leaning
heavily
against ordinary days.
Grief touches everything eventually
Just to see if it can.
Mar 17
Mar 17, 2026 at 9:48 AM UTC
I am just a chip of the statue that has raised me.
But I do not have enough stone in these hands
to make myself whole alone.
And I know it isn't your fault
Because you cannot control what you have to carve away
To fit your figure,
But I had really hoped you'd let this imperfection stick around
A little while longer.
I ask around, I search for clay to fill the holes,
but every time I find another,
I am left with less than before.
And I know I am not easy,
but I did not ask to be cut from marble
That is too cold to touch.
I will be good,
I will be kind
And I will be quiet.
So please,
Give me a soft spot to land
Next time I fall from your pedestal.
Because soon, I will be almost nothing
And no one will know whose fault
It really was
Mar 17
Mar 17, 2026 at 9:44 AM UTC