Every time you see a beanie,
Your heart skips a beat—
Not in the way that makes you feel alive.
It stutters, hesitates,
As if it might stop altogether.

It turns to stone, heavy and cold,
Sinking deep into your chest
Holding you down like Excalibur in the stone
To the past you’ve tried to leave behind.

A simple thing, a beanie,
It carries the weight of memories,
Of moments you can’t outrun.
You feel the ache of what once was,
A reminder of what you’re still trying to forget,
The stone that continues to grow heavier.

You sighed,
Wanted her to be clean
Not the kind of clean that bathed themselves everyday,
Dabbled on the prettiest perfumes
Did their makeup like the most talented artist

You wanted her to be clean in the way that she didn’t tear herself open.
To be clean in the way that showers didn’t sting like alcohol in a wound
You wanted her to not have stained thoughts every time she saw a blade to not have to the wipe blood off her skin every time you couldn’t be there
You wanted her to be clean in the way that your love could make her whole

Purging her skin like it is filled with maggots
Wiping it with a blade as if it is the softest towel
Feeling the warmth like the Sun on a cold morning, blood dripped down her body.
Offering her a fleeting comfort you could never understand

How could it be that you look at those parts of her with such disgust?
Pulling the fabric of her clothes over them like a curtain of shame
Unable to bear the sight of something so grotesque.

They are the realest parts of her,
showed the raw truth of what ugliness she brews
the only parts of her she found peace in,
The only parts she finds pretty.

She is here.
you do not care if she is clean or *****
Because you realized all she could ever do was drag you through the darkness and contaminate you.

She loved him.
He said it back—
two words, a lifeline
She was filled
What if she didn’t fulfill him?
What if she was just a passing light,
a flicker in the dark he no longer needed?

She danced at the edge,
Blind to the truth beneath the rhythm
Loving him because she needed to be loved
Not realizing the ache of that hunger
Until he hurt her beyond ignorance.

Relief washed over her—
Not because it was over,
Because the split finally came.
He took parts of her
Scattered like whispers
Leaving her to drown
In a flood of her own making.

They say it takes time
to descend from that high
of loving someone too much.
He’s already walking ahead
writing a story where she is a forgotten footnote
A stone he kicked and left behind in the dust.

Being kicked to the curb hurt.
Not immediately—
She moved forward, numb
as the days passed
She began to crumble
Piece by piece.

She wants herself back.
What if he is what she still wants?
Even now
With him cast as a thief
In the narrative of her heart,
She finds herself missing the weight of his presence.

Bitter fruit grows from seeds she sowed of her doubt and unresolved problems-
Overtaking the memories of love she thought was healthy.

“You’ll understand the need one day.”
She wondered if that day would come—
when her skin cracked like paper-mâché.
She kissed him,
expecting fireworks her mother once described.
She was met with darkness and discomfort.

Your lips claimed connection,
but her heart whispered betrayal.
You held her hands, damp with want,
and she clung to you,
as if tomorrow might vanish in the haze of your hunger.
Your kisses were curses.
Your moans, sharp and grating, like nails on a chalkboard.

You always wanted more.
She wanted less.
But she knew—knew that if she said so,
your love might slip through her fingers.
So she swallowed her words,
let them sink beneath the weight of your doubt.
Her stomach churned at the thought of surrendering further,
but she feared what silence might mean.

She thought this was love’s price.
It felt like punishment,
a debt she owed for not being what you needed.
A cruel vengeance
for the love you hoped would reshape her.

Your need was relentless,
a siren’s call echoing through her fragile soul.
She tried to answer,
to meet the demands of a love she didn’t understand.
But no matter how much she gave,
there was always something more to prove.

She saw the way your gaze flickered—
whenever a boy made her laugh too freely,
whenever she held a girl in a fleeting embrace.
You feared she could slip away in any direction,
as if her love had no center.
She feared it too—
feared that if she stepped too close,
if she let herself love fully,
you’d see the truth and call it betrayal.
So she learned to quiet herself,
to keep her heart caged behind careful distance,
to let her silence be the currency of survival.

Her love for all was buried beneath layers of tolerance.
Your unease hung heavy in the air,
a suffocating reminder
that even monsters must learn to breathe in secret.

Now you’re gone.
And she is free.

Free to let the monster breathe,
her truth exhaled.
Yet freedom still walks on glass,
the world sharpens its claws,
a family poised to cast stones,
a society waiting to tear her apart.

No longer chained by the need for proof,
she holds her truth like a flame—
fragile and bright.

The Mom gets frustrated with her Dad-
The way he thinks only of himself,
How he repeats the same stories,
Never truly listening,
How his jokes sting with carelessness.

She fears of becoming like him,
In her eyes, he can be found.
The way they both speak with their hands,
Spending hours making meals to share,
Bopping along to the music,
Both chasing the fear of not doing enough.

They are bound by blood and care,
The Mom has gone farther,
Breaking free from the shadow of her father.
Yet she carries him still—
In her smile, her kindness,
And the drive that fuels her love for her kin.

The day he was diagnosed,
She took the phone,
Pressed it to her ear-
“Hello? Is he okay? When will you be home?”
Such simple questions.
She didn’t realize how vast the space between them had just grown,
A distance that would stretch further as they aged.

She remembers watching her Mom with his supplies,
Every movement committed to memory,
Just in case he needed her.
She learned what carbs were,
Wanted to give him his shots,
To always be there for him.

She held his hand as needles pierced his innocent skin,
Ran for juice boxes whenever his blood sugar crashed,
Not knowing their bond was turning to sand,
Slipping quietly through her fingers.

He fell into silence, a shadowed space,
She tried to be his anchor, he shut her out.
Yet he was her hero-
She spoke of him like a legend to her friends,
Worked hard to match his stride,
The two years between them felt like decades.

She built a bridge over the gap, trying to catch up to him
The gap kept growing.
She sat in the middle of that bridge,
Waiting
She couldn’t bring herself to burn it.

Then she saw it—the hurt, the anger in his eyes.
As she climbed higher, excelling
She became what he feared to see.

She was in the spotlight
Adored and praised.
At first, it felt like victory-
Until she saw what it cost him.
She stopped liking the pedestal.

To him, nothing changed.
She remained high above,
Not where she wanted to be,
She only wanted him.
All she saw reflected his growing envy.

Time moved on her body changed,
Turning into something unfamiliar,
He said he would protect her.
She believed him.

When the time came, he couldn’t.
She gave up,
Accepted what he had become in her eyes,
She shut him out,
Wounded and wishing,
One day, he’d help her
The way she had helped him-
How they used to help each other.

After the scars have piled up,
He’s here again.
Like a wounded animal,
She treads carefully.
In her eyes he is a fair weather friend,
Her heart is fragile,
Too fragile to trust so easily.