You say it’s me,
but the silence says more.
When you disappear,
I’m not sure what I’m waiting for.
The phone don’t ring,
your name just fades to gray—
and I’m left wondering
who you’re loving when you stay away.

This month…
this month has torn me down.
I’ve lost more than I thought I could
without making a sound.
My daughters—gone,
because their father plays God in court.
And still, I sit here,
waiting for you like I’m your last resort.

I move with grace,
try not to fall apart.
But when I pour out my soul,
I’m left talking to the dark.
You don’t pick up the phone,
you don’t ask how I’m holding on—
and I’m starting to think
you were never fully gone…

Because maybe you’re still tied
to the past you left undone.
Maybe she still owns a piece
you never meant to run from.
And here I am, loving you
in the middle of my own hell,
while you're loving me
with walls I can’t compel.

I don’t want to be the second choice
to a family you still miss.
I don’t want to be a placeholder
for a love that don’t exist.
I’m breaking, but I’m quiet—
still soft when I could scream.
Still sitting in this story
like I belong inside your dream.

But dreams don’t call back,
and silence don’t explain.
So I keep collecting questions
that echo in my brain.
Why you never show up
when my world starts to cave?
Why I feel so alone
with the one I try to save?

I’m tired, baby.
Not mad—just worn.
I’ve been fighting battles
since the day I was born.
But love ain’t supposed
to feel like I’m begging just to stay.
It’s not me you’re losing—
it’s the chance you threw away.

There’s a monster living under my skin,
It hums lullabies in a voice like sin.
It doesn’t scream. It doesn’t roar.
It just waits... behind the door.

It’s soft-spoken, wears my smile,
Walks in my steps, stays awhile.
It knows the cracks behind my eyes,
Where all the dead dreams lie.

It isn’t sharp—it’s patient and slow,
It dances in places no one should go.
It sips on memories like bitter wine,
And chews on thoughts that once were mine.

It curls around my mother’s name,
And whispers that I’m just the same.
It counts the days I’ve held my breath,
Then offers comfort dressed like death.

People say, “You’re healing now,”
But they don’t see the sacred vow—
Me and it, we made a truce,
It feeds on pain—I stay the noose.

I try to scream, but it just grins,
Wearing my face like borrowed skin.
And every time I think I’m free,
It locks the door and swallows me.

You wouldn’t know it to look in my eyes—
But something in me never dies.
I laugh. I love. I play pretend...
But the monster’s always watching…
waiting…
for the end.

Pity the fool that fumbled me
thought love was free,
but nothing real comes without a fee.
Unconditional? Nah, I had conditions
like loyalty, truth,
and no double lives or hidden missions.

My heart ain’t healed,
just stitched up in silence,
still bleeds slow
from past love’s violence.
I gave it whole, I gave it loud
they left me hollow
but still I’m proud.

To the next soul who dares to stay,
I’ll hand you the ruins,
I won’t make you pay—
but know this truth before you fall:
you’re getting pieces,
not the all.

You’ll get my scars, my sacred mess,
my tired eyes that still confess
I want to love, I want it true,
but I no longer chase
what won’t choose me too.

So take what’s left, but tread it right,
I’m done with war disguised as light.
If you love me,
love the broken parts,
‘cause I’ve already died
a thousand starts.

The weight is heavy
not from the world,
but from the wreckage I carry
inside my own chest.
I built this burden brick by brick,
with every promise I broke
to myself.

I can’t breathe.
Not because there’s no air
but because I’ve learned to choke
on my own expectations,
on all the times I said
“I’ll do better tomorrow”
and didn’t.

I stare at the mirror,
but all I see is a ghost
of the girl I swore I’d become.
She looks back,
disappointed
not with the world,
but with me.

I let myself down, again.
And again.
And again.

How do you forgive
the one person who
never seems to change?
Who keeps repeating the same fall
with hope in her pocket
and shame on her face?

I’m tired of pretending
this is healing.
I’m tired of calling this
a lesson.
What if I’m just broken?
What if the climb
was never mine to make?

But even here,
gasping beneath the weight,
there’s a whisper
maybe not today,
but someday,
I’ll stand
and she’ll be proud
to be me.

They say I’m strong,
but they don’t see the water rising,
don’t feel the weight in my lungs
every time I smile and lie,
“I’m fine.”

I wake up sinking
not in oceans, but in silence,
in memories I can’t bleach clean,
in screams I swallowed so long
they echo in my bloodstream.

Tried to build lifeboats
from people who only ever drilled holes.
Tried to love loud enough
to be heard above the storm,
but the waves always win
when you fight 'em alone.

My past pulls like undertow
grief, guilt, betrayal tied to my ankles.
And hope?
Hope’s a flicker in the fog,
a lighthouse I keep swimming toward
but never reach.

Some nights I just float,
arms wide, numb to the cold,
wondering if the sky will cry me dry
or if this is just how drowning feels
when nobody notices you're underwater.

But still
I breathe.
Even when it hurts.
Even when it’d be easier not to.

Because there’s something holy
about surviving tides
that were meant to take you.

Am I the monster I’ve been hiding from?
Or the echo of screams I hush in my lungs?
Can’t outrun a shadow stitched to my spine,
Can’t fake a sunrise when the dark’s still mine.

Each time I stitch the wound,
it splits somewhere new
a bleeding trail down a road I never knew.
I thought I was healing, thought I was whole,
but maybe I’ve just been patching a soul
with tape made of hope and silence and sin,
walking a path where I leave pieces of skin.

I turn around,
and the girl I was is scattered
like glass in the gravel,
every step shatters.

Was I ever moving forward?
Or just spinning in place,
gasping for breath in God’s empty space?
Do I restart this war with no map in hand,
or do I sink in silence like wet-packed sand?

If I drown this time
will the weight let go?
Or will my goodbye
just echo below?

It started with a pull,
just a little peace wrapped in green.
Thought I had it handled
a blunt to hush the screams.
Then came the whisper,
the ghost of the snow,
a line on the mirror,
and suddenly I’m back with blow.

I swore I left that girl behind,
the one who chased numb just to feel fine.
But the past don’t knock
it kicks in the door
when your chest feels heavy
and your knees hit the floor.

******* called soft like an old friend’s hug,
but left me empty,
jaw tight,
heart shrunk.
I laughed at the ceiling,
eyes wired, soul cracked
knew I was slipping
but didn’t claw back.

Not ‘cause I didn’t want to,
but because in that second
the fall felt safer
than standing tall in my own truth.

But look at me now.
Ashamed? Maybe.
But broken?
Hell no.

Because a relapse ain't a death sentence
it's a lesson.
A reminder
that healing ain’t clean
and strong girls bleed too
in the dark
when no one sees.

I forgive you, Jennie.
For the ****,
for the blow,
for the nights you danced with demons
just to feel like you could float.

You're not back at the start
you’re just rerouting.
Still breathing.
Still chosen.
Still worth shouting:

“I slipped,
but I rise—
and this time,
I bring fire in my eyes.” 🔥