I loved you like you were the last soft thing
this world had left to offer.
Not because I ran out of hope,
but because nothing after you
ever felt like truth.

We never needed to say much.
Some bonds are built in silence—
the kind that doesn’t demand to be seen,
only understood.

You didn’t save me.
You didn’t even try.
You just stayed,
long enough for me to feel
what it was like to be seen
without asking.

And when it was good,
it was light spilling through trees—
unexpected, quiet, holy.

Then something changed.
Maybe time,
maybe distance,
maybe things we were too proud to name.

You left like a tide—
slow, steady,
inevitable.
And I let you.

Not because I stopped caring,
but because I cared too much
to hold on tighter than you wanted.

Now, sometimes,
I go where we once were,
not to rewind—just to remember
that I once lived inside a moment
that gentle.

And though my hands still move,
though the pages still fill,
I haven’t opened that part of me again.
I haven’t drawn another face.

Because you were the last time I let go.
And some feelings
are too full
to follow.

I had it all, didn't I?
Or did I just pretend?

The echoes of laughter I swore were mine,
The warmth of hands I thought would never leave.
I trace them now in empty air,
Fingertips brushing against ghosts.

Why did I do it?
Why did I become the very storm I feared?
I tell myself, "You had no choice."
I tell myself, "You had to survive."
But the mirror does not blink,
The face staring back is mine, yet it isn’t.
Its smile is twisted, its eyes empty.
And in the silence, it asks, "Was it worth it?"

"You changed."
I didn't.
"You did."
I had to.
"And now?"
I don’t know.

I claw at time, try to stitch it back,
Try to mold myself into someone who never cracked.
But the past does not bend,
And the future does not wait.

So I sit with it.
With the weight of what I’ve done,
With the weight of what I’ve lost.
And in the stillness, a whisper—
Maybe, just maybe,
One day, everything might be alright.

There was a time when silence felt softer,
when empty rooms didn’t echo this loud.
Loneliness sat beside me—not a friend,
but someone I understood.

Back then, even shadows felt familiar,
and the quiet knew my name.
I wore my solitude like an old coat—
frayed at the edges, but it fit.

I wasn’t happy, but I was whole
in the hollow spaces I called home.
Now, I drift through noise that feels too thin,
strangers' voices, yet none reach me.

They say I’ve grown, that I’ve moved on,
but I lost the one who knew me best.
And here I am, calling through the blur—

I miss you.

But I guess that doesn’t really matter, does it?

What is home?
A place?
A person?
A feeling?
Or just a prison dressed in nostalgia,
a lie we tell ourselves because the truth burns worse?

They said home is where the heart is,
but mine was torn out and left to rot.
They said walls listen,
but mine stayed silent when I screamed.
They said doors always open,
but mine locked itself before I could turn the handle.
They said home never leaves you,
but I stand here, and it’s already gone.

I gave this place everything—
my laughter, my silence, my quiet prayers at 3 AM.
And still, it abandoned me first.

Now it stands there, hollow and rotting,
pretending to be something worth missing.
Like I was the problem,
like I was the one who let it fall apart.

Fine. Let it crumble.
Let the wind rip through the bones of this house.
Let the fire take it all,
turn the walls to embers, the memories to dust.

And when the ashes settle,
when the smoke fades into the sky,
maybe then,
it will know what it’s like to be left behind.

Peace...
A word long lost, from a world long gone.

Is it peace I am experiencing ?
Or is it silence ?
Am I now alone ?
Or am I just lonely ?

Who knows, "you do-"

Maybe, Maybe not,

I feel sad, regretful,
I feel sorry, hurt
I feel broken, pained

"Is this the peace I wanted ?"

I am lying on the floor,
The crying of my family, friends, unknown relatives,
All fading in the background,

I hear them,
"WHY WHY WHY WH-"
Is this the price for peace of self,
To take away others?

I was still young when I took that step,
The only step it took to quiet me.

Strangers cry, voices I’ve never heard,
Those I knew whisper apologies too late.
And a look of being failed oneself on parents,

Who knew, I had this many people to care for me,

Had they taken a step forward,
Maybe I would not need to have taken my step,

In end, the voices now fade to oblivion,
As I walk a meadow of peace,

From a world long lost, with a word long gone.


"The cries fade, the regrets grow quiet, and I walk ahead.
If peace is what I sought, then why does it still feel so heavy?"

Oh, the world screams,
Commands, prays, persuades—
"Don't drink, it's not good,"
"Don't smoke,"

Don't this, don't that.
Their voices, sharp like daggers,
Carve rules into my soul,
A warning etched in stone for the weak.

But where was this world,
With its words, its rage,
When I loved?
When I fell, unguarded, unarmed—
Into the arms of the cruelest poison of all,

Love.

Oh, they call the bottle a killer,
The cigarette a slow death,
But nothing—nothing—
Consumes a heart so ruthlessly
As love does.

And now, as I lay upon this fragile bed,
The weight of the world pressing my chest,
They gather, their whispers:
"We told you, didn't we?
See where it brought you?"

And I, pale as the moon in mourning,
Smile with the last flicker of life,
A quiet defiance in my cracking voice:
"No—
The poison was love."

I am free

Somewhere, I will find her—
The girl you used to be,
The one who held my hand
Her laughter will echo softly,
Unaware of the silence you left behind.

I will sit beside her,
On the edge of a love untamed,
And speak of the wreckage
You carved into me.
How your words, honed sharp with blame,
Cut through the tender spaces, I thought were safe.

She will listen,
Her heart breaking in places,
Her eyes will fill with tears,
Each drop a piece of her innocence
Falling away,
As I tell her how you abandoned
Everything she swore to protect.

Her voice will tremble like a brittle leaf,
“I would never—
I could never—
How could I become this?”
She will curse you,
But in there will be no anger—
Only grief.

Somewhere, she will hold the weight
Of what you’ve done.
And in her mourning,
She will look at me and whisper,
“I loved you once, with everything I had.”

I will not reply,
For somewhere, she already knows—
That love you left behind
Still clings to the pieces of me
You destroyed.

And as I walk away,
Leaving her to grieve
The person she thought she’d never lose,
I will wonder if somewhere— ?