I stood by the shore,
Watching the waves pass through,
feeling its currents go against my feet.
The force was strong.
The water was cold.
My toes gripped firmly to the sand.
I could not move forward.
I did not want to move forward.
If it's this much here,
it must be worse there.
Little did I know that,
what lies ahead is better.
For as you go deeper,
water embraces more of your parts--
your body adapts to its temperature.
And there, the waves once so intimidating are calm.

I lose myself in spectral alternatives
Of an uncertain and nonexistent future.
Tormented by inconsistent thoughts,
By inconsistent perspectives
And in the countless possibilities of the horizon.

A feeling that accelerates the chest,
At times paralyzing and tormenting,
Moving in disharmonious rhythms,
Expelling an unmeasured air
From a gasping breath.

I cling to the present
That runs and does not forgive,
Thrives and insists,
Being the only one that resists,
To the past and to the future.

Here I lay, alone at night,
Anxiety high, fear takes flight.
Perhaps I’m broken, beyond repair,
Alone with feelings I cannot share.
You’re at home, wrapped in peace,
While I’m trapped where my thoughts won’t cease.
Am I enough? Why not me?
Am I unworthy of love, truly?
What’s so wrong that I can’t let go,
Around in circles my mind will go.

Here I sit, alone once more,
TV humming, light faint and poor.
Maybe tonight I’ll drown it out,
But doubt creeps in, circling about.
Hour after hour, the ache won’t wane,
Devoured by this endless pain.
I’m not enough, I’m overweight,
I’m stupid, worthless, it’s all my fate.
Alone—I was made for this solitude,
Yet I didn’t have to be, if it weren’t for you.
While you sleep soundly, your heart at ease,
I’m here fighting the storm I can’t appease.
You’ll text in the morning, as if nothing’s wrong,
“How was your sleep?” as the night feels so long.

“I can’t yet,” you say, “It’s not the right time.”
“I love you, you’re mine,” yet doubt still climbs.
These words you speak, they circle my brain,
Leading me deeper into this darkened terrain.
When I’ll emerge, I cannot say,
The weight of your love leads me astray.

I love you, too, but I’m left to wonder—
Do you truly love me, or am I just under
The spell of your words, the hope I create,
When all I feel is this lingering ache?
If you did, wouldn’t you be here now?
Wouldn’t you find a way, somehow?
I know you have obligations, I get it—I do,
But doesn’t love find a way to push through?
You say she needs you—fine, I can see,
But why must it always be her, never me?

You say you don’t love her, so make it clear,
If that’s the truth, then why aren’t you near?
“It’s not finances, not her, not you,”
Then my mind concludes—it’s just me, isn’t it true?
So tell me now, set me free,
From this deep dark spiral of uncertainty.

What are her feelings

for me? Well, I could ask her --


but that is risky.

I pull the curtain

open, just to stall for time,


and study the fog.

In the temple of unspoken mornings,
a door swings, not ajar but wide—
its hinges weep, long unkissed by oil,
long bent by winds that come from
nowhere.

Do you feel it, too? The way the air
clutches its throat, as though words
have gathered there in clumps of
breathless apology?

This is how time unravels:
slowly, like wet silk pulled
too hard through the eye of a needle.
It frays at the edges, whispers
of all the threads we never wove.

The earth remembers us only as echoes.
Fingers pressed once into
its forgiving skin—
a palmprint gone before
it understands its shape.

Once, I dreamed of rivers:
not the sharp-edged kind
that cut their way through stone,
but rivers made of shadows,
of choices we left behind
to drown.

And what are we,
but the sum of our silences?
The rooms we entered
and left untouched?

I stand here now,
on the lip of the great dark,
and the stars—oh,
the stars—
bend low to meet me.

I wonder if they, too,
are waiting for
a voice that doesn’t
break
when it speaks.

The threshold murmurs underfoot,
a breath of welcome,
or warning, or both.
This is the place where endings
begin—
where even the smallest light
is an earthquake
in the soul.