I know another man’s junk is another man’s treasure,
for what is worthless to one may be priceless to me
Like the bracelets I gave you just to be rid of them,
not knowing you’d keep one—and return the other to me

Do you still wear yours? I wonder sometimes
Last time I saw you, it clung to your wrist
But I haven’t seen you in so long,
and time is a thief I cannot resist

Like bladeless sharpeners, empty and still,
they serve no purpose, yet I hold them tight
Once, they were escape, a solace in steel,
now, just relics of vanished nights

Like notes you passed, folded with care,
tucked away in a box I cannot discard
Like the jacket I wore whenever I saw you,
kept so I don’t forget—avoided so I don’t remember too hard

I hate remembering, yet forgetting is worse,
a cruelty I fear more than pain
For how could I let go of the things that remain,
when they made all my days what they were?

I think I knew it all along,
My hands were built for breaking, not for song
I tried to hold you soft and true,
But clumsy hearts don’t hold like steady glue

And I think I knew it from the start,
A storm can’t love the stillness of the chart
And so I loosed the knot I tied,
And watched you drift along the evening tide

You were the lighthouse far from reach,
A soul I touched but could not teach
A love I bore but never wore,
A knock I left outside your door

I kept my claws behind the veil,
Afraid they’d carve more grief than tale
You’ll never see the war I fought,
To stay away though near I sought

They’d call me cruel, they’d say I fled,
They’d ask what thoughts ran through my head
Do you recall my quiet hands?
And wonder why they missed demands?

Why they refused to dry your eyes?
Or failed to chase your fading skies?
Why they stood idle at the shore,
And never dared to pull you more?

The truth is this, I feared to bruise
To grip too hard, and still to lose
So I became the ghost you met,
A love you’ll mourn, but not regret

I wish I could project the past,
Play every scene and frame it fast,
A channel made of memory’s hue,
So all I love could see it too

They’d see the tremble in my hand,
The way my breath would barely stand,
The way a glance could make me break,
The way all of me was more than fake

Poetry mimics what hearts convey,
It paints with words that we can’t say
Though poetry holds pain and grace,
It cannot write a warm embrace

I’ve got stories to tell, whole worlds in my head,
But the ink runs dry when I’m close to the thread
Some things are sacred, too real to share,
Moments too fragile for open air

Been 18 for the last five years
Rain falls on the Blooming City like tears
Are the ones crying just me and the clouds?
Are these fake smiles just chasing crowds?

Have I grown in half a decade?
Have I known loss, or just paraded pain?
Graduated twice, but lost a dad—
Is it even right to still feel sad?

Can you lose someone who you barely knew?
Am I still wandering inside these prose?
The shadows still scream, the ceiling still listens—
What will it take to find what I’m missing?

To my 18-year-old me:
You’re doing okay—just keep trying.
To my 13-year-old me:
It’s okay to rest. That’s still surviving.

I hope I find what I’m meant to do,
Not vanish chasing ruthless truths.
Even if rain hides us in its shrouds,
Light still breaks through cracks in the clouds.
-**

Recovery can

take a long time, like waiting --


for what is over.

perhaps i was never what you wanted
but you were someone that i would’ve killed for.

don’t become sick with yourself
like i have.
i have an intense feeling of hatred
for what i have become.
the first time i puked into my hands
it was due to this pathetic nightmare
i have done nothing to wake up from.
i have stayed here
waiting for something to change
but doing nothing to change myself.

𝙰 𝚋𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚝 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎
𝚂𝚎𝚎𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎
𝙰𝚗 𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚕𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚏𝚞𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎
𝙰 𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚜𝚏𝚒𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚢 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎'𝚜 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚌𝚛𝚒𝚙𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗

𝙰 𝚠𝚊𝚕𝚔 𝚊𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎'𝚜 𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚎
𝚅𝚒𝚋𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚜
𝙰 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚘𝚏 𝚐𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎𝚜
𝙰 𝚜𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚜𝚘𝚕𝚎𝚖𝚗 𝚙𝚛𝚊𝚢𝚎𝚛 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚋𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎𝚜

𝙰 𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚣𝚟𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚛 "𝙹𝚊𝚖𝚊𝚒𝚜 𝚟𝚞"
𝙲𝚛𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚏𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚊𝚛 𝚖𝚘𝚘𝚍𝚜
𝙰 𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚊 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚝
𝚂𝚊𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚖𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚜𝚝

𝙶𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚏𝚞𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚜 𝚠𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚊𝚜 𝚘𝚗𝚎
𝚆𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚢 𝚘𝚗
𝙲𝚑𝚘𝚘𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚕𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎'𝚜 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚡𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚎𝚜
𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚜.