There is an ache that folds
like paper
soaked through,
crumpled in the cold,
collapsing
centre
of me.

With nothing more than a whisper,
it returns,
as if just moments before
I suffered this mortal injury.

Its power unbound—
ready to consume me
if I let it.

Some days,
I beg this ache to vanish,
leave me hollow, free.

It guards me from healing,
a quiet, faithful dog,
licking old wounds
to keep them open.

I sink into this quicksand of memory,
then fossilize in grief’s amber—
trapped, not treasured.

How can I let it go,
when its grip
is all I have known?

And yet, I breathe it still,
not by choice,
but because forgetting
would mean losing the last of it.

I move through sorrow’s veil,
a torn page curling on wind,
almost-free.

Your family hates me for leaving you
They don’t know
I would have died had I stayed
Even a cactus can die of thirst

© 2025 Joan Zaruba. All rights reserved.

I hold a pen
              It’s yours
It won’t write for me
Suit my hand
My words
My mood
Even if it did
                 I think memory
              Is best left within
Rather than releasing ink
That’s beyond written expression

I wake with a quiet ache,
scrolling to our thread,
your name still there,
but silent.

Still, I send a message,
something small,
as if it might stir you
through the silence.

I picture your reply,
how you'd type and pause,
then send a heart,
or something silly,
just to make me smile.

Late nights were our ritual,
voice notes at 2 AM,
arguing over latest movies,
sharing dreams,
too fragile to say out loud,
except with each other.

The world spun with just us in it,
so selfish,
we never needed another.
We joked that anyone else
would steal our thunder,
dim the glow we found
in each other’s laughter

Days pass like drifting leaves.
I tell myself you're busy,
or resting,
or just forgot to reply.
And then,
the words I never wanted to hear,
you’re gone.

Gone,
while I was still waiting
for the next story,
the next laugh,
the next moment
with you.

Now our memories
live in unread messages,
and I’m still here,
talking to the past,
hoping it hears me.

Written by Micko.
All rights reserved.
30.April.2025.©️

volatile observation suspended amidst reality and fiction,
subdued voice echoes down a hallway of convictions;
like a despotic fog blurring options for a swarm of insects
who eventually finds way to a lizard's grotesque carcass.

a feeling, in my gravel ribs, this might be a dead end
staring up at the sky, an atheist's hollow vision;
air and venom flowing through wires of flesh,
tired abusive drunkards- returning home a mess.

my dear texts~"what if, it's nothingness which spirals into life?"
I am left in my bathtub with a glass of honey or wine,
and the last ray of optimism, living vicariously through my mind.

if who i am is what you see
what do you see when you look at me ?
across the room
across the world
your eyes are the one thing i catch.

the invisible, unbreakable string ties us together
holds me by the neck
your gaze grazes my lips
and you forget her presence--
october is endless.

--

ViCTORiA’S iNTERLUDE

VICTORiA, SAY iT BACK
i CAN’T BE LEFT ON THE LAST WORDS
THE EiGHT LETTERS.
WHO HURT YOU ?

BRiCKS ARE WEiGHiNG DOWN ON YOUR HEART
NOTHiNG’S EVER GOOD ENOUGH
NOTHiNG HERE COULD SAVE YOU
OR YOUR CUTTHROAT KiNDNESS

CRASH MY CAR WiTH ME iNSiDE
LiQUiD GOLD LEAVES YOU FEELiNG PUT TOGETHER
CRASH MY LiFE BUT i’M NOT MAD
BECAUSE iT WOULDN’T FEEL RiGHT WITHOUT YOU

YOU’RE ONLY EiGHTEEN
HOW COULD ANYONE HATE YOU
i FALL FOR YOUR KiND
YOU STAY THE SAME AND iT’S DANGEROUS

SO MUCH SMOKE
ViCTORiA, THiS HAS ME FEELiNG SO LOW
YOU’RE CRUiSiNG WiTH YOUR EYES CLOSED
LEAViNG ME WiTH NO CLOSURE

YOU’VE DROVE ME AWAY WITH YOUR EMOTiONS
LEFT TO FORGiVE AND FORGET
AFTER BREAKiNG ME BADLY
BLURRY ViSiON, ViCTORiA, i’M BLEEDiNG OUT AND BRUiSED.

--

victoria, what will it take ?
you were the closest thing i had to her
but now that i do have her
there’s no need for you
there’s no need to be jealous.

you’ve given me nothing.
can’t i ask for one thing,
i just wanted you to burn the strings
but instead you cut the ties.
you’ve given me closure.

i guess it takes conflict
to know who really takes you far
but no matter how far we split
our string stays tied.
haven’t we been through this before ?