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Lisa 44s
The Stillness
 
It does not echo.
It does not push, or pull.
It only stretches into the yawning void.
I stare over the edge and think,
What if I went?
 
I do not want this,
But I will not go there.
I am here.
I want to BE HERE.
 
I am floating,
Hovering.
 
There are no voices in the stillness,
Telling me to come.
Telling me to go.
What to think,
What to say,
What to feel.
 
I find solace in the silence—
a...not quite peace.
It's the space between pulses
Where I am not chasing
Or being chased.
 
No demand to perform,
No mask to hold in place.
It's a hush that lets me breathe,
A little something just for me.
 
But I like it here,
Right at the edge of this void.
It's where I can just be.
And wonder,
What if I stay?
 
So I stay...
and find out.
The Stillness is a feeling. An in-between place where I can just...be. A calm nothingness. But also, a choice.
Lisa 8m
My hands linger on the barrier tight,
Fingers twitching in the failing light.
Blood is drumming, hot and loud,
A whispered thought beneath the shroud. There’s a pressure blooming in my head,
Like every word I left unsaid.
It hums behind my aching eyes—
A silent song that never dies.
Half-lidded eyes, I am silent and watching
There waits the void -
                
         Gaping
                          
                    Calling
                                    ­Â Â 
                              Pulling

There's a gravity that pulls me near,
A silent whisper I half-hear
As the yawning void draws me in,
slow and thin,
I can't help but gaze, its pull a curious haze. It's promise I have not destroyed.
It sings in shadows, soft and low,
A voice that tells me where to go.

But still I hover, still I stall,
One heartbeat shy of letting fall.
I want to leap, to drown, to fly—
To find out what comes after why.

The wind shifts, and picks up my hair.
I blink and turn—no fanfare.
Just the concrete path, and the noise of life—the cars, the birds, the sun burning bright.
I shift my weight. The void still calls.
It tugs at my feet, my arms, my soul.
It's hold trembles. The strings snap.
I step away as the chords retract.
The mouth closes. Now threadbare—
fraying, curling...but I don't care.

I am stalwart. I am serene.
No longer caught in what has been.
The path ahead is cracked and wide.
I don’t look back.
I walk.
I try.

Maybe this is why.
First post here.
I wrote this in a moment of tension—between fear and curiosity, between holding on and letting go.
I think I’m still somewhere in between. If you give this a read, thank you. If you do and something pulls within you.....I know.

— The End —