The world looks at my leaking eyes
and drafts a script for a man who left,
or a lover who turned to stone.
They offer bandages for a heart
they think was bruised by a person.
But my ribs are a cage for a different ghost.
I am not weeping for a "him" or a "them."
I am staring at the ceiling, asking the Architect
why He builds such beautiful rooms
only to tear the floor out before the guest arrives.
Three times the sun rose in my marrow.
Three times the clock stopped before the first chime.
I used to think of the Light as a destination,
but right now, it feels like a thief.
Not a killing—He doesn’t use a blade—
He just reaches into the soil of me
and gathers my seeds before they can even touch the air.
The first two were quiet departures,
shadows slipping out the back door.
But the third?
The last one didn’t just leave;
it took the foundation with it.
It left a silence so loud it’s deafening.
But even in the break, I hold the line. I keep the promise I whispered into the dark.
The Architect may have gathered them early,
but He’s just holding them in a room I haven't entered yet.
One day, the silence will end.
One day, I’ll walk through those golden gates
and I won’t be looking for streets of pearl—
I’ll be looking for three.
I’ll see you all. I'll hold what I couldn't keep.
Until then, I carry the light of you
until the day my promise meets the sky.
By dum silly girl
Apr 17
Apr 17, 2026 at 2:34 PM UTC
The world looks at my leaking eyes
and drafts a script for a man who left,
or a lover who turned to stone.
They offer bandages for a heart
they think was bruised by a person.
But my ribs are a cage for a different ghost.
I am not weeping for a "him" or a "them."
I am staring at the ceiling, asking the Architect
why He builds such beautiful rooms
only to tear the floor out before the guest arrives.
Three times the sun rose in my marrow.
Three times the clock stopped before the first chime.
I used to think of the Light as a destination,
but right now, it feels like a thief.
Not a killing—He doesn’t use a blade—
He just reaches into the soil of me
and gathers my seeds before they can even touch the air.
The first two were quiet departures,
shadows slipping out the back door.
But the third?
The last one didn’t just leave;
it took the foundation with it.
It left a silence so loud it’s deafening.
But even in the break, I hold the line. I keep the promise I whispered into the dark.
The Architect may have gathered them early,
but He’s just holding them in a room I haven't entered yet.
One day, the silence will end.
One day, I’ll walk through those golden gates
and I won’t be looking for streets of pearl—
I’ll be looking for three.
I’ll see you all. I'll hold what I couldn't keep.
Until then, I carry the light of you
until the day my promise meets the sky.
By dum silly girl
