Some nights,
the quiet doesn’t comfort me.
It presses in,
like a hand on my chest,
reminding me how alone
walls can feel.
I count the seconds between my breaths,
as if spacing them out
might slow the ache,
but the truth is
I’m just trying to make
the moment last long enough
to understand it.
Still
the moon finds me,
spilling silver over everything,
and I think maybe
there’s beauty in being seen
by something
that asks for nothing in return.
Aug 12, 2025
Aug 12, 2025 at 11:45 PM UTC
Some nights,
the quiet doesn’t comfort me.
It presses in,
like a hand on my chest,
reminding me how alone
walls can feel.
I count the seconds between my breaths,
as if spacing them out
might slow the ache,
but the truth is
I’m just trying to make
the moment last long enough
to understand it.
Still
the moon finds me,
spilling silver over everything,
and I think maybe
there’s beauty in being seen
by something
that asks for nothing in return.