i’ve been feeling empty,
a mere vessel.
kept praying for something
to change.
but something shifted
when it came.

thought i’d already
met the ground,
until i learnt
you can sink lower —
disintegrate,
and drown.

The sun rises anyway,

indifferent to absence,

painting the same golden squares

across your empty bed.
Coffee brews in kitchens

where your name will be spoken

in past tense for the first time,

voices breaking on the syllables.
Your phone buzzes with messages

that will never find you—

lunch plans, inside jokes,

the ordinary love of ordinary days.
Someone will have to call your work,

cancel your dentist appointment,

decide what to do with the milk

that expires next Tuesday.
The world keeps its appointments

while those who loved you learn

to navigate the sudden geography

of a life with you-shaped holes.
Your favorite song plays on the radio

in a car where someone weeps,

remembering how you hummed along,

fingers drumming the dashboard.
The morning after is not an ending—

it's the first day of everyone else

learning to carry the weight

of all your unfinished stories.

I see you now, little one—
lost in a classroom,
fidgeting, daydreaming,
never quite fitting the mold
they pressed around you.

You didn’t know why
your mind spun so fast,
why your heart beat with worry
when others sat still.
You tried so hard to be good,
to be quiet, to be “normal,”
but the world kept telling you
you weren’t quite right.

No one named it for you—
not the teachers with their sighs,
not the parents with their puzzled frowns.
You learned to hide your questions,
to swallow your confusion,
to tuck your wildness away
in a box marked “wrong.”

I wish I could go back,
kneel beside you in that noisy room,
take your hand and whisper,
“It’s not your fault.
You are not broken.
You are bright and brave and different—
and that is a gift.”

I grieve for the years you spent
trying to disappear,
for the shame you carried
like a heavy backpack
no one else could see.

But I’m here now.
I found the words we needed.
I see the patterns, the reasons,
the beauty in your scattered thoughts.
I open the box,
let the light in,
and hold you close.

We can be whole,
you and I—
the child who survived,
and the adult who finally understands.

sometimes i’m asked
about my siblings.
i don’t mention you.
at all.

in that moment,
i’m already lying —
not naming you
with those still living
because the memory
will always sting raw.

it feels like erasing you.
but you don’t exist.
not in the world
they know.
i don’t speak your name
or what i hold back,
in those unsaid words.

i don’t need their sorrys,
their tilted heads,
want to unwrap
the sudden,
the young,
the different.

i do have siblings.
i have a few.

it’s easier this way.

i could talk about you,
attila.
but you’re stitched
into the past,
like an old photo
that the living
don’t get to touch.

it's easier this way.

to carry your presence,
in the sleeve of my heart,
so you never fade.

The pain
that tears through my chest,
from top to bottom—
there are no words
to truly describe it.

It is only
pain.

Seeing you happy,
traveling to a place
we once planned to go,
leaves a bitter taste
and makes my stomach tremble.
I wish I were there with you.
I feel I’ve lost so much
I feel I’ve lost
us.

Why did you only love me when I made you proud?
Why didn’t you help me when I asked for it?

Why did you threaten to leave me behind?
To send me away?
To give me to someone else?

Why did you blame your illness on me?
Why did you say I wouldn’t even cry if you died?
Why did you tell me I could leave anytime —
And never show my face again?

Why do you still say things that hurt?

I hate that I can’t talk to you.
I hate that I can’t ask for help —
Can’t ask for something I need, like other kids do.

I hate that I have to hide the cuts.
That I have to lie about the bruises.
That I have to pretend I’m okay.

I hate coming home.

Why did you treat me like an adult when I was still just a child?
Why did you guilt-trip me...
And then confess why you did it —
As if that made it okay?

Why did you do that?
Why did you hurt me like that?

My nails carved scars into my skin,
As if pain could remove the feeling that lingers within.
Blood spills on my body frame
Yet it cannot clear the filth I feel.

I scrub and scrub,
No soap, no water, no time
Can rinse away the weight of shame

How strange this world is
So loud, yet it never heard the screams
That once lingered in those walls

I tried to escape the shadows that gripped my ankles.
To run from the arms that pinned me down.

I choked on silence that was my peace
I tried to ***** out the disgusting taste
But it stuck to the roof of my mouth
A bitter feeling that won’t go away no matter how hard i tried

The bruises faded,
But the memory never did.

My cries for help, once strong
Just disappeared
A small plea for Nothing big.
Time passed
Now it was not where to be seen .

I've been meaning to write this for so long,
To tell you how I see you
Sometimes wrapped in shades of blue,
A quiet calm that lingers in your steps.
And then there are days you glow in purple,
Radiant in the light, like dusk softly kissing the sky.

I love the way your hair finds itself
Tied in a bun, neat and graceful,
Or braided down your back,
Revealing its endless length,
A cascade of midnight flowing free.

Some days, I greet you face to face,
And on others, I linger behind,
Watching you walk away
Thinking how the red of your dress
Dances with the flower in your hair,
A fleeting flame that burns quietly in my mind.

I adore your smile
How it arrives unannounced,
And your eyes
Always glistening, always bright.

I smile, too, when I spot your bus in the morning,
And find myself just hoping -
Hoping to catch a glimpse of you,
As if that alone could brighten my day.

Every evening, when I walk home,
One thought follows me like a shadow
Will I see her today?

My friends know how foolish I am when it comes to you
How your name is carved into every joke they make,
And how no one dares touch
That one red and silver pen
The one that feels like yours somehow.

I keep thinking back to that Teacher’s Day
The way you stood on stage,
Draped in purple,
Frozen in a moment I never want to forget.

And I know
I'll always carry these colors with me,
A canvas painted in shades of you.

A cry in the night
Thin yet sharp
Unheard, yet never unspoken.

Why? Why did they turn away?
Why did my voice fall like a leaf
Trembling and twisting  
yet never caught?
I reached out i swear i did
But not far, not loud
But enough
enough for someone to notice.
Or so I thought.

Was I too small, too plain, too quiet
To be worth the reach of a hand?
Was I too ordinary to be saved?
Too forgettable to be found?

I cried, but no one listened.
I begged, but no one answered.
My voice cracked and broke
And still nothing.

Tell me was I not enough for you ?
Not special enough  to matter to you?

I tried to stand tall,
But my legs shook beneath me.
I tried to be strong,
But my ribs felt too small to hold any breath i took
I swallowed the screams again and again
Until they rotted inside me
Turning my chest tight and until i felt it on my body
Turning my mind into a maze I couldn’t escape , maybe i never will.

I waited.
For a knock at the door,
For a voice to call my name,
For someone or anyone to come see me,
To see the shadows swallowing me whole

But no one came.

So
I learned to smile enough
To keep all the questions away.
I laughed loud enough
To bury the sound of my shattering heart
I wore my strength like armor
Heavy and suffocating
But convincing enough to fool them all.

And still... I waited.
Waited for someone to notice
That under the brave face
Was a soul in great pain

Tell me , was really so easy to forget?
So simple to not care
Did no one see the way I flinched every time
Did no one notice the way I held my breath whenever there footsteps neared my bed

I used to dream that someone would save me that someone would see through the silence
And wrap me in arms that felt safe.
I used to believe that love
real love l
Would find me before I disappeared completely.

But now that I wonder.
Maybe some people aren’t meant to be saved
People like me
Maybe some cries are meant to die out in the night
Forgotten and unheard

And maybe that cry in the night
just maybe.
It was never meant to matter at all.