I dwell alone in this gray hinterland,
While friends I love live past its edge.
An outsider — I’ve made my stand,
My soul unmoved by local pledge.

They cast their judgment, dull and dry,
Their world drained of hue or grace.
But I won't flinch, nor question why —
For love once lived in a brighter place.

For my friends, I’ll bear this ache,
This exile etched in time and land.
It’s fleeting, like a dream I’ll shake,
A fading echo I’ll not withstand.

For my heart, I’ll cross the line,
To warmth, to truth, to those who see —
The ones who held my hand in time,
The ones who simply loved all of me.

People count the years
by candles and quiet tears.
The twenties, they say,
are when we wait
for the first cry
from a miracle
just learning to breathe.

But some of us, like me,
never quite grow up.
Peter Pan weeps
each time the rain brushes my shoulders.
I come alive again
only in fleeting moments,
like the string that’s slipped
from a flying kite.

Just days ago,
that child stirred again —
flickering like a candle,
reaching toward her teacher,
a man with nothing
but quiet grace,
yet rich in the kind of ways
that make you believe in yourself.

She longed to share
a small bright win,
a spark like a candle’s tip —
just enough to set a heart aglow
beneath the gaze
that once gave her
presence
when the world turned away.

For the first time,
I wanted to tell
someone —
so fully —
like a child
unafraid to confess,
trusting there’d be
an empty seat,
and eyes that wait.

I once thought,
on the day I might break,
as wax melts
over a birthday cake —
would God have mercy
and let me return
as my teacher’s daughter?

But now I know —
even the most beautiful dream
can turn to dust
if we forget to hold the present
while it’s still here.
Even something lovelier
can still feel
like a passing crush —
picked up with wonder,
and dropped
when wonder fades.

what if
the world crumbled beneath my feet
and the sun
burned me to ash?
what if
the grass turned yellow
and lifeless,
while the sky fell
all around me?
what if
the oxygen i breathe
escaped my home
and left me gasping
for air?
what if
i lost it all
today?
do you know of my world?
my sun?
my land and sky?
the air i breathe?
my all?
my everything.
he has a name.
it's one of the most
beautiful sounds
my ears have been blessed
to hear.
the galaxy's stars
dance in my eyes
when i gaze upon him.
my heartbeat flutters
and pounds the air
out of my chest
when he calls me
by name.
what if
my home,
my world,
my everything
turned
into nothing?
the thoughts of losing someone
i never thought
i'd come to love
so much
keeps me awake at night.
what if
he left,
here today,
gone tomorrow?
what if
the love we planted
together
died
and dried up,
no salvation,
no remorse,
no more seeds
to plant.
my very soul
would cease to exist
because how do you survive
with absolutely
nothing?

i am in love with a man who simply
cannot love me half as much as he says.
otherwise, he wouldn't be able to rip me into little pieces,
slowly and little by little.
the good times,
the boy in him i fell in love with,
who rarely peeks behind
the "man" he's become
are just the strips of tape holding all of me together.
what happens when it runs out?
i'll be left scrambling to pick up all the pieces
blowing away in the wind in his trail
as he leaves.
i'll be left to tape them all together by myself
with the energy and love
i wouldn't have left.
and because of that,
because of him,
they'll never fit the same again.
my life has been full of him.
8 years.
what do you do
with everything that's leftover?
with all the stuff he'd leave in my vacated heart?
memories.
inside jokes.
laughter.
late nights.
gentle touches,
imprints of fingertips on wanting flesh.
the lingering warmth of kisses.
"i love you."
over
and over
and over
i'd keep replaying the sound his voice makes
when those three words come out of his mouth.
the town i've lived in for years
no longer home, but
the tragic remains of a place
that once held our love story.
restaurants,
movie theaters,
bowling alleys,
arcades,
parks,
cars,
streets
no longer,
just torturous reminders
of him and i.
nowhere to look
without seeing his smile
or hearing his laughter.
these memories will never leave,
and they'll never fade.
and i'd just rip apart all over again.
knowing he'd be out there somewhere.
without me.
without us.
and i'll wonder,
how his new world looks in his eyes.
is it bright and safe?
is it quiet and comfortable?
is it better?
i think
the painful answer
would be yes.
because otherwise,
he'd love me the way he says.
he wouldn't keep tearing me apart.
he wouldn't be able to live without me
as i'm unable to live without him.
i imagine him,
in a perfect world,
while i'd tremble in it's upside down,
waiting until i could see the sun again.
and i don't think i would.

Hope is a lie people cling to
a lie they wish upon believing it
But one day it'll disappear into the blue
Watching your dreams shatter bit by bit

Hope is a lie with feathers
Silently waiting for you
But once you get near it shatters
runs away from you like an unsolved clue

Hope is a lie, a cruel one
One which leaves you waiting for more
and when your happiness reaches its peak
It leaves you broken and alone
It leaves you shaken from the bones to the core
It leaves you empty and feeling like a freak

Hope is a lie, many learned to be careful fromButt those unfortunate souls dressing for prom
thinking they're going to get their prince
But leaves the floor drunk from drinks

And so goes for love
making a fool of us
tricking us, making us think we're above
The heartbreak it does is treasonous

There are cries that come
like weather—
loud, sudden,
gone before they finish saying
what needed to be said.

And then there are the others.
The ones that wait for years
to find a home
safe enough
to be heard.

Tonight, it wasn’t just a song
that broke you—

it was the quiet
after the song ended,
the part where someone stayed.

No questions
or fixing.
Just presence,
while you folded
into the sound of your own heart
finally unclenching.

You didn’t cry because you were weak.

You cried because
you were ready
to stop pretending
it didn’t matter.

And the silence that followed
wasn’t empty—
it was full of everything
you never got to say.

So let this be the night
you remember not what shattered,

but who stayed
long enough
to help you gather the pieces.