to feel nothing and everything
with no in between
to feel ever so deeply
but knowing these feeling aren't yours

empathy?

or is it mimicking
because the incapability of actually feeling

Shattered soul
by stabbing holes.
Wounds and voids.
Silent screams
are broken noise.
Deep below rock bottom,
is an equation lacking a sum.
Dead alive.
The night sky
with her diamond eyes
cried.

Honey its been a while but i know you exist between heartbeats — not quite joy not quite grief, just the long inhale before either arrives.
you lived in a house where silence carved the hallways out of not being chosen so i know that you wear sound like an armour,
for when the room goes quiet the ghosts start speaking in full sentances and you are left with no language to bury them.
you answer messages in your head, smile at texts you never send and mourn connections like you've buried them with your own hands — even tho they are still alive
just not with you.
you wage a war between
reach out
and
stay safe.
between
i miss you
and
don't look at me.
you stand still.
mid-sentance
mid-dream
mid-you.




your house is a mess- your head is worse
wondering if this is healing or you are just getting really good at pretending so you bolt the doors
and you don't dare let anyone come in.
your mother used to say that the cruelest is the hour when you must beg the stars to remember your name — you'd then say
that the pain is a fruit, bitten too soon
and yet so sweet, so knowing.
because you know you must remember everything
and overcome it.
for if you don’t overcome it, you will always be the child whose soul never grew, the woman who kept apologizing for needing too little, and loving too much.

Long are overdue the deeds you owe to yourself.

-V

Leave when the sky is loud but the sidewalk is quiet.
When the door clicks shut like it’s keeping a secret,
don’t flinch.
Let your hands hang heavy,
the silence has its own grip.

Take only what fits in your chest,
you’ll be shocked what doesn’t.
Use only what won’t puncture your lungs.
(Even breath can betray you.)

Don’t check the mirror.
It lies loudest when you’re quiet.

If you must cry, do it in motion.
Stillness makes grief cocky,
then it hands you a mirror labeled “proof”
and waits.

Let the memory bruise.
Don’t label it.
Names are spells.

Closure’s a mirage
that waves from the distance
and never once turns around.

When the day feels unbearable,
bear it.
Not because you’re strong—
because you’re stubborn
and still here.

By month three,
his name will taste like static.
By month six,
you’ll forget the exact color of his laugh.
And by month twelve—
you’ll mistake the whole thing for a metaphor.

You’ll almost be right.
But even metaphors
break skin.
Memory crusts,
but it never closes.

We both sat in different cities when our conversation started,
not chasing sparks,
just tired souls
looking for soft places to rest.
No promises hung in the air,
no games, no veiled agendas—
just a quiet click,
like puzzle pieces long lost
now found in the same box.
You asked what I’m passionate about,
and I didn’t hold back.
You didn’t flinch at the messy parts.
You shared your own—
not for pity, not for drama,
just truth,
and I listened like I’d been waiting
to hear you all my life.
We laughed about bad jokes,
Talk over what we each had for dinner,
traded secrets like childhood treasures
buried too deep for most to see.
For once, I didn’t feel like explaining myself
was a chore.
And you—
you didn’t try to fix me.
You just listened,
like you knew the weight of it too.
I don’t know where this is going—
if anywhere.
But for tonight,
your voice is a light in a room
I forgot needed one.
And that’s enough.

Consultation With The Grim Reaper
Omniscient being of death
I seek thy comfort and solace
Melancholy monotony of days to come
Arrival of whispering entities
Speaking to me of vices and arrogance
Acting amongst their wishes of woe
A quandary of life and death
Heaven nor Hell will free me
From my soul draining enslavement
False deities tug at the rope tied at my neck
Dragging me to their individual hell
I worship only the black reaper
Save me from my ill fortune
I wish to consult the most high
Bring to me the power to take away
The death scythe gives lacerations to my flesh
Pouring salt into my burnt irreparable wounds
A broken heart incapable of penance
Mistakes forsaken by Thoth
It is time to seek my father Death
Pass down to me your robe of mire
The charnel of screaming
My new sacral burial ground
The skin on my body turns to bone and dust
A faceless and lifeless cloaked figure
Bereavement of what once was
Fortunes of unforeseen death
Become the purpose of my null existence
Eradicate the false ideology of hope
To declare a former soul deceased
Endless visions of sorrowful memories
Beaten and whipped by the angels above
I loathe the inescapable eternity to come