She’s been caught —
crying through every night,
her heart still weeping
though no tears in sight.

With red weeping eyes,
she stares in the mirror.
Her hands are trembling,
cold as winter.

What keeps her up in the dark?
What sets this silent flood in spark?
She wonders about things that might have been,
and all the aching what ifs within.

She wishes to hold herself tight,
to feel — even briefly — that things are right,
whispers to gods to grant her sleep,
just one quiet night without the weep.

Kneeling down, her body sags,
beneath the weight of unseen bags.
The floor and walls a cold alabaster,
she folds in half before Our Father.

Will the heavens hear her plea?
Or let her sink into the deep sea?
Will the ground bury her under,
or the waves drag her down in thunder?

She looks again — red eyes stare back,
mirrored in the glass, cracked.
Red as the blood she saw just prior,
as she dragged the thin metal deeper.


- N.V. 🥀

Down upon a pale path draws the knife
Dull, sharp stinging pain the first the worst
The second even better, viscous pomegranate
Seeds of doubt pour out

I try not to scream and shout, closed lips
To the hurting in my heart
Brain holding my feelings in hands wringing
Wet with tears slippery salt mingling

The light comes in and out
Candle lighting itself from it's own smoke
Eyes open to find myself still here
I wish they didn't

In the morning I hear footsteps
And all they can say
Do you feel better?

Tomorrow needs you .
You don’t know what seeds
you will miss out on seeing grow.
You already planted them so,
you
might as well live another day.

See what sprouts pop up in the
warmth of the sun.
Tell me, are you having fun now?

It’s just the way life goes.
So, please stay a few more days.
A few more always leads to
A few more.

A fly lazily perched on my computer,
it brushed its legs against each other.
Like you used to.

I stared at its black eyes,
dark like your gaze when you gripped me by hand
and pulled me away into your bedroom.

I remember how dark the world seemed
when I shut my eyes,
counting every second.
Hoping that it’d make it fade,
make it stop,
make it less real.

But the fly’s legs were thin, fragile, small,
tiny the same way I felt powerless
when you were around.

And then the fly flew away.
It swept through the window, free.
Oblivious to my catching breath,
while I hyperventilated
trapped between the memories
of what you have already forgotten.

Snap back to reality,
Snapping out of it
Breath in
Breath out
You're not alone with it
Let's conquer
Let's wake up
Let's become
Present again,
I know we're capable,
I will support you till the very end.

I love you.

I am a Coliseum—
Broken, but still standing,
A relic of past glory,
Hinting at a time when I stood tall, whole, and victorious.
When the battles fought within me were always won by the hero.

But slowly, the battles grew harder.
The hero began to falter,
Until she lost everyone.
Until her determination shattered like glass,
Almost as sharp as the razor blade against my walls.
Until crimson blood leaked from her chest,
Staining my jeans as it spilled from our bodies in unison.

She died, and I was left in a gray, hollow way of living.
Trying to make sacrifices of my own flesh
To revive the fearless woman she once was.
But I failed—again and again—
Fighting my own battles,
Facing my own shadowed lions,
Until I, too, was dead.

I've decided to stay that way.
Tablets for writing may record it,
And tablets for pain may propel it.
I drink some water to make it easier to swallow

Attributes of the walking stick
hung around like charity shop clothing -
bagged and ready to go

It was a switch that had truely altered time again
(\ - this is not poetry it is gospel.)and a shower which managed to scrub off a few inches of the ***** dirt

a sectre of a cultural conversation
that stands for nothing
whether i'm ***** again ot not.

The chip shop gave me free water, and i just considered myself lucky at the time
but its starting to make me more suspicious now

and not in the way that i've seen my whole teenage and further years as a massive xenephobia crime made to seem more convincing through dehydration