An olive branch,
in hot September,
on a bridge of embers,
entices the *** to stir.

But her table’s always empty,
even if food was plenty-
too broke, too broken
for any to gather around.

A med concoction,
from no other option,
except the great allure…

A barren planner,
hung on a sun faded wall,
by a nail ripping through
it’s cross-stitched heart.

This is what reminds her-
Reminds her she’s all alone.

My friend is coming today.
No—my friend is coming tomorrow.
My daddy says so.

Dad says the house must be clean,
or my friend can’t come.
He is coming tomorrow—he really is.

The vacuum only holds so much.
I work all day.
My friend is coming today.
No—my friend is coming tomorrow.
My daddy says so.

But it’s not clean.
I sweep and sweep—maybe I weep.
The tears stain. It’s not clean.

My friend is coming today.
No—my friend is coming tomorrow.
My daddy says so.
As soon as it’s clean.

I put my toys away.
I stack and stack,
boxed and neat.
But I imagine a game.
I play alone—still make a stain.

My friend is coming today.
No—my friend is coming tomorrow.
My daddy says so.
As soon as it’s clean.
Yet I’m still playing alone

"im lonely, so lonely."
the saphire cries.
"the moon is dark, gone frome the skies."
she glistens and sharpens in her hue.

"if only, if only"
the gemstones reply
"you would be moved, we could see your eye"
they believe a change is due

yes only, if only, the change would come

I was a kaleidoscope

Every hope,faith

I made symmetrical pattern

Yet I know nothing

I Saw the world through
magnified lens,
Microfying lense

Before I knew to pronounce letters greater than five

Yet I know nothing

The power to completely
detach from my soul

Yet be Completely entwined

The web of veins
That cannot function
without the other
Yet I know nothing

Pain far worse
Worse than shrivel of knives
Scattered through all my senses
Yet I know nothing

The vastnes of pain
Each knowledge it comes with
I've been through it
Understood it
Empathatise it
Yet I know nothing

Yes I am That kaleidoscope
My limitation is only war
A defect I'm happy with

I spend many days
trying to sum up emotions
what do they equal to?
Feeling so much, and then so little,
I secure my belt
as I sit on this ride
these contradictions
blindside, and whiplash me.
But that's just life isn't it?
Peaceful, but frightful
joyful, but lonely...
I imagine that's an emotion
most people feel.
There's a longing so strong
I can almost touch it,
but it's not here.
And because of that my eyes are blurred
unable to see the beauty around me
even if there is just me
and things don't add up.

I’m too much.
I’ve heard it in every sigh,
seen it in every glance that lingers just a second too long—
the weight of me suffocating the space between us.

I ask for too much,
but it never feels like it.
I don’t ask for the world,
just the bare minimum:
A little attention. A little care.
A little proof that I matter.

But somehow, even that’s too heavy.
Too big. Too loud.

I’ve learned to bite my tongue,
to shrink myself down to something easier to swallow.
Soft-spoken. Simple. Small.
An echo of who I was,
because maybe then,
I’ll be easier to love.

Spoiler alert: I’m not.

I’m always too needy,
too messy,
too complicated.
The kind of person you put up with,
but never choose.
The kind of person you forget as soon as the door closes.

I feel it every time I reach out,
fingers trembling in the dark,
hoping someone will hold on—
only to find the emptiness waiting for me again.

I want to scream,
“I don’t want much!”
Just to feel seen.
Just to not be forgotten.
Just to be the kind of person who matters to someone—
even for a little while.

But I’ve learned how this goes.
I ask,
and I become too much.
I stay quiet,
and I become invisible.

Caught somewhere between being too heavy to carry
and too easy to leave behind.

So, I sit with the weight of it.
The loneliness.
The ache that tells me I’ve always been replaceable.
A body that takes up space
but never quite fits anywhere.

And the worst part?
I still keep hoping.
Still keep waiting for someone to see me
and not run.

Even though I know they will.

They always do.

When you are silent,
I suffer in silence.

For hours on end,
You don't reply.
Even though I see you online.

Off, then On.
On, then Off.
The silence?
It is loud.

Many others you meet,
And all of them you greet.
A warm welcome, a fond goodbye.

On, then Off.
Off, then On.
The silence?
It's painful.

Many days later,
I get an answer.
Many words, so little meaning.

Off, then On.
On, then Off.
The message?
It cuts deep.

When I remain silent,
I suffer regardless.

You ask, I don't reply.
I require rebuilding
Lest I die, I will need some time.

Always On, never Off.
Never Off, always On.
My silence?
It's T o r t u r e.