Describe a weight you carry that has no name.
sometimes I am waiting for my soul to catch up with my skin. the gravity of the grief I refuse to name settles in the ankles, it rounds the shoulders into an apology, like a sea that never meets the moon. this throat is a graveyard of silences and swallowed protests, words are ground by fear before they can taste the air. as in a chronicle written in disappearing ink, my body speaks in the shorthand of the broken
tiny badger
Apr 28
Apr 28, 2026 at 2:35 PM UTC