and it comes without warning
a shift in the wind,
a breath that won’t land,
a blue that lingers
like a ghost in my hand.

i sit in my skin
like it’s foreign, misplaced,
like it’s shrinking each hour
and i can't bear the weight.

no one broke me today.
and still,
my body folds
learning to stay
in a world that forgets
how to hold me that way.

don’t ask me what’s wrong
there’s no name, no song
for a pain this old,

just the weight
of a hundred selves
i couldn’t hold.

but when it strikes,
i don’t need grace.
just the courage
to look my ruin in the face.

because some days,
survival
looks like a girl
curled up and still
biting her fist
so the world doesn’t hear
what it means
to be here
and feel everything masqueraded

while her heart knows
that she lived,
but not all of her did.