I am now a natural gem,
A mix of murk and clear,
Different colors or shades.

I am now a healed piece of earth,
A patch of glow over the ashes of disease,
Diverse as I breathe in fresh air.

---
That's the thing we sign on a poet's grave
That is the symbol of death we know in our language
Every dash etched with the weight of an iron cuff
Have they lived long enough?
No I'm afraid they never got their time to shine
Before their art's demise.
---

a weeping heart
half filled with joy

walking the line
carrying the load

empathy is pain
a sweet sweet unity

if you find these words,
please,
don’t carry them back to him.

what i write here
isn’t for revenge,
or to make him guilty.

it’s the only place
i can empty the ache
without breaking apart.

so let me keep this corner,
let me keep this voice.
it’s not for you,
and it’s not for him.

it’s just for me,
the only way i know
to keep breathing.