I have these…childhood memories.
I remember;

Tears.
Fear.
Raised voices.
A broken windshield.
A singed curtain.
Broken hearts.
Broken vows.
And so, so many broken promises.

A room that was mine and also not mine.
A door that never felt like it closed.
Walls that learned to listen.
Drawers that held their breath.
I learned silence like a second language,
and tried to follow your lead.
Your voice became my voice.
I smiled when I wanted to frown.
I made myself smaller
in places that should have been safe.

                      “She’s my favourite.”

So I escaped
to where you couldn’t reach me—
in the corners of my mind,
to stories that never knew your name…or your kind.
Places you could never follow.
Worlds that felt like mine.

                    I remember your hands—
                    not where I want them.

I remember the sharpness of footsteps in the hall.
The sound of keys—
how even that could make my stomach drop.

      "Is this going to be a good night,
                        or a bad one?"

And I remember his voice,
too close again.
I hoped, stupidly, he might’ve changed.

But he hasn’t.
He never will.
And when he spoke, I trembled.
Not because I didn’t know—
but because I did.

Because I’d heard it all before.
Those saccharine words,
dripping—
sickly sweet…empty.
"I'm sorry,"
falling out of your mouth
like it cost you nothing.

And I used to hope you meant it.
That maybe this time
you’d keep your word.

But you didn’t.
You never did.
Another promise,
broken.

I trace the shape of the memories
only when I choose to.
Some still ache when I touch them.
Some don’t belong to me alone.

But I am still here.
And this room—this one—
is mine.

You haunted everything.
But not this.
Not now.

This part of me—
is yours no longer.
Not in this room.
Not in these walls.
Not in me.

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
                                    ­  
                              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.

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.