theres a whisper under the surface,
a ghost of a feeling,
not pain, not hunger,
just a flicker of remembering.
my body hums the tune
of an old song I don’t sing anymore,
the kind that echoes in the bones
even when the mouth stays closed.
i dont miss the hurt
i miss the quiet it used to bring,
the way the noise would stop
for half a heartbeat.
now i stand in the light,
razor set aside,
teaching my hands
a new kind of stillness.
a new kind of quiet,
the quiet and peace he brings me,
its my hope.
Nov 6, 2025
Nov 6, 2025 at 2:44 PM UTC
theres a whisper under the surface,
a ghost of a feeling,
not pain, not hunger,
just a flicker of remembering.
my body hums the tune
of an old song I don’t sing anymore,
the kind that echoes in the bones
even when the mouth stays closed.
i dont miss the hurt
i miss the quiet it used to bring,
the way the noise would stop
for half a heartbeat.
now i stand in the light,
razor set aside,
teaching my hands
a new kind of stillness.
a new kind of quiet,
the quiet and peace he brings me,
its my hope.
bleh
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