bleedingink

bleedingink May 16

Ghost

The house echoes so loud now.
Sunlight falls,
dust motes dancing.
He used to chase them,
a blur.
Now just the quiet remains.
My hand still reaches for fur.

Everywhere,
his ghost lingers,
A favorite toy,
untouched now.
The park we walked,
feels wrong,
Empty pathways taunt me,
Where is your happy bark now?

Lonely world,
rearranged wrong.
Each day a mountain to climb.
Looking for you in the breeze,
In every kind, gentle face.

Maybe in dreams,
we'll meet.
Running free,
no more pain.
Until then,
I search for you,
In this life,
so strange and new,
Hoping one day,
I will see you again.

Sometimes our greatest friends never say a word.

bleedingink May 16

On the floor

On the floor,
against the wall,
someone screaming, “call for help”
spinning, can’t focus.
the chipped paint mocks me.

Voices fade,
in and out,
a distant siren wails, a plea?

My own breath,
shallow, tight,
is this really happening now?

The cold tile,
a harsh embrace,
numbness creeping, slowly stealing.

Just stay awake,
just breathe deep,
before it all disappears.

Is that my name they’re calling?
Everything is getting dark.

bleedingink May 16

Sanctuary

She smiles,
just a little,
and the tension in my shoulders
melts,
like snow on warm skin.

Her voice,
a low, steady current,
is like coming home.
This girl,
with her soft eyes,
and gentle words,
is…

the harbor in my storm,
the fire in my winter,
the reason I remember
how to breathe again.

She is the quiet promise
whispered in the wind,
that peace, at last,
might finally be granted.

She is the reason
my heart knows how to beat,
a melody both ancient
and eternally new.
She is sanctuary,
in its purest form,
a haven built of kindness,
and offered just to me.

<3

bleedingink May 16

Panic

A breath caught,
snagged on a jagged edge,
pure, white terror blooms,
a blinding fog.

Footsteps echo,
too loud,
everywhere, a frantic pulse,
a hummingbird trapped.

Panic, a cold fist
around the throat,
can't see, can't think,
just run. Where?
Doesn't matter, just away.
Blind.

bleedingink May 16

My everything

He is the earth,
this horse,
a solid, breathing ground
beneath my fingertips.

The summer sun catches
in the rich, dark copper
of his rippling coat,
a warmth that lingers
even when the days grow cold.

He is the quiet rhythm
of breath and heartbeat,
a steady counterpoint
to the frantic pulse of the world.

He is patience,
a silent understanding
that blooms like wildflowers
in the space between us.

He is everything,
this horse.
My anchor.
My home.

He is solid and sweet. An angel in disguise.

bleedingink May 15

She is a girl in a gilded cage

She is a girl in a gilded cage, it is beautiful to look at, bars made of finest gold, engraved with delicate flowers and shimmering vines. But it is still a cage.
She is a girl in a gilded cage, protected, sheltered, safe, but not free. Like an elegant songbird, she is expected to sing, and she does, forever obedient, forever trying to please.
She is a girl in a gilded cage, never allowed out, always behind those beautiful bars while they shout at her, for she did not sing their favorite song that day.
She is a girl in a gilded cage. Begging with her eyes for someone to see beyond the sweet and happy melody she sings, to open the little door, to let her out.
She is a girl in a gilded cage, cowering in a corner as they make the cage smaller, for she did not play her part, instead doing something they will not allow.
She is a girl in a gilded cage, when they are gone she hurts herself, believing she deserves to hurt for being a disappointment.
She is a girl in a gilded cage, sitting on the floor, her only true friend lifeless in her arms, a sob suppressed for she cannot show she is hurting, always happy.
She is a girl in a gilded cage, her innocence taken too early, too fast, looking for a way out because anything is better than this pain, shredding her from the inside.
She is a girl in a gilded cage, learning how to pick the lock because no one will save her so she has to save herself.
She is a girl in a gilded cage, going to parties and getting drunk, hooking up with strangers, even though the one she really wants is there, but so far away.
She is a girl in a gilded cage, coming back every time, because they have trained her to believe she needs them to survive.
She is a girl in a gilded cage, still singing, but her eyes hold secrets and pain that she has never voiced out loud.
She is a girl in a gilded cage, something cracked within her, and someone finally notices and asks what is wrong, but she will not say, afraid of the abandonment given by so many others.
She is a girl in a gilded cage, singing, laughing, joking, and no one will ever know that she is a prisoner, one who might not make it out alive.

Sometimes we have to die before we can live.

— The End —