the past comes like tides to my shore,
soft with lies, hard with roar
a cycle of salt
of grief dressed as gold
whispering "there was goodness behind you"
but i remember
the tearing
the clinging
the ache that never lets go
i was the walls.
i was the fortress
i was one man trying to hold the line
and one man cannot hold the fort alone
so i bled
and i broke
and i ran
but if i flee how far will it follow
will the tides chase me to the highest mountain
remind me of everything i could not carry
everything i let drown
are these waves my own weeping
or is it yours too
your tears caught in the foam
your sorrow spilled into my storms
im sorry
i couldnt help you
i didnt even try
so i shut the gates
i sealed the doors
i hurt others, then myself
until i was nothing but stone and silence
a ruin gnawed thin by regret
is it enough
to want to mend
to whisper a name and mean it
to hold the wreckage and call it love
do i sink
do i disappear
is there even anything left
worth making right
or am i just the echo
of what should have been done
when it still mattered
a part of me died with you

i burned what was brightest in me
with hands that knew no tremble
lit the match not in madness
but with the precision of purpose
not fate, not some cruel unseen hand
no storm but the one I summoned
the wind was mine
the tide was mine.
and the wreckage, yes
God help me, was mine too
i made an altar of myself
and laid upon it every soft thing
hope, kindness, the fragile trust
that others dared to place in me
i watched them catch fire
with a satisfaction that sickens me still
i wasnt broken by life
i broke myself
just to see if i could
and when i shattered
i called it art
but the worst
the worst is not the ruin I became
but the sails i cut from others skies
the quiet lives i warped
to mirror my storm
they called it love
i made it suffering
now i walk these ashes,
years deep and soul-thin
unable to sweep them clean
unable to start again
who loves the one
who devours the light
who saves the one
who insists on drowning
i see it now
and seeing is a curse of its own
not too late to hurt
too late to undo

Have You forsaken me
or did I walk backward into the dark
pretending I didn't see the light behind me
I called You Lord
called You in the night
when the silence echoed so loud it sounded like judgment
Did I not cry out
Did I not beg You to see me
even as I turned my face away
Please do not remove Your Spirit from me
Not that last thread, not the final warmth
Let me carry the weight, yes
but let me carry it with You still near
Why do You say I am a worker of iniquity
I said Your name, I said it with trembling
I built altars in the ruins
I tore myself open to be filled with something clean
And still
You say, "I never knew you."
Then know me now
Not the mask, not the myth
but this bleeding thing that won't stop reaching
I am begging
Not for comfort, not for favor
just for nearness
Just for the mercy of being seen
and not cast out
If there is wrath for me, let it be honest
If there is silence, let it not be forever
But if there is still a whisper in You
let it come
Even now
Even to me
Forgive me
and my unfaithfulness

i remember when He walked beside me
not in thunder
but in the hush between my thoughts
a warmth beneath the ribs
a whisper in the stillness
i did not fear the silence then
but now
the silence is all i hear
not holy
not healing
only hollow
He is not far
i know this
He has not moved
i have
each today came with a voice
gentle
steady
calling me from the edge
and each time
i turned the volume up on my own will
until even His whisper
felt like wind through a broken window
this is not distance
this is disobedience
a thousand closed doors
with my name on the latch
a thousand chances
i have left to rot like manna hoarded overnight
He said if today you hear His voice
and i always had today
always
and still
i blocked my ears with pride
and clothed my heart in noise
now i sit in the wreckage of all my todays
and long for His nearness
but my hands
my hands built the walls
and i do not ask why He feels far
only
will He still speak
if i finally listen
He built me a home
with walls of mercy
and windows clear enough to catch the morning light
He placed peace in the corners
and truth beneath the floorboards
every stone set with patience
every beam carved from love
and i
i tracked in the mud of my own making
lit fires where rest was meant to be
hung idols where His name should dwell
spoke lies into the quiet rooms
until they echoed back as if they belonged
the home still stands
but it groans with sorrow
foundation split not by time
but by choice
my choice
He does not flee
but He does not feast where filth is served
and i have been a poor host
setting the table with bitterness
pouring cups full of self
i feel Him in the distance
not because He has gone
but because i have built walls
within walls
within walls
until even His knock feels faint
this disunity
is not a moment
but a rhythm ive kept
a hymn of rebellion
sung in the house He gave me
yet still
somewhere deep
beneath the ash
a corner of that home remembers Him
and trembles
and hopes
and waits

every failure has a seat
at the long dark table of my mind
they do not wait to be called
they arrive uninvited
dragging their chairs with splintered grace
and settle in like they never left
they speak over each other
loud and unrelenting
their voices rise like smoke
curling into every thought
every breath i try to take
the one who cost me everything
leans forward with eyes like broken glass
whispers that i was never enough
not then
not now
not ever
another laughs
a low and bitter sound
tells the story of when i tried
and failed so loudly
the silence that followed still echoes
they rearrange the walls of my mind
scrape at the corners
with claws made of memory
chisel new shapes into my thoughts
and paint shame in places
light used to reach
i beg for quiet
but they are architects tonight
they are sculptors of sorrow
and i am clay
soft and unwilling
turning under their relentless hands
they feast
they sing
they remind
this is not a dinner
it is a haunting
and i
i am still the host

i looked back once, to where i came from
a graveyard of vices, each one rusted
shattered links scattered like autumn leaves
their weight gone, their whisper silenced
the night once lived in my eyes
a darkness i called my own
but now, oh now, a light burns there
not mine, yet it claims me whole
it is not borrowed, nor stolen
it is gift and grace, woven into my marrow
a flame that neither flickers nor fades
pulling me forward, redeemed, unbroken
every step echoes freedom
each breath sings of chains undone
where i once stumbled in shadows
now i walk in the radiance of another’s glory
i am not my own, and yet, i have never
been more myself

i’ve gambled on shadows
bet on whispers that faded at dawn
held my hand against the table’s edge
afraid to ante up for more
the house always wins
they said
as though joy were a rigged game
a wheel spinning to nowhere
but tonight
with trembling fingers
i lay down all i have
dreams i dared not speak aloud
the weight of every almost
every not quite yet
the air shifts
a hush a pause
a moment thick with risk and promise
and then
against all odds
happiness smiles back
it’s not the jackpot
not fireworks or a grand parade
but a steady warmth in the chest
the quiet click of a lock undone
i’ve wagered on light this time
on the sun that rises without fail
on the laughter i hear in the distance
growing closer now
for once
i bet on myself
and the deal feels true