#lowmood
i booked myself a holiday.
paid for the flights,
the airbnb —
six hundred pounds
on a girl i no longer
recognise.
i wasn’t scared
of the city,
or the silence,
or eating alone.
i was scared
of the stranger
wearing my face.
so, i didn’t go.
Apr 29
Apr 29, 2026 at 9:54 AM UTC
i have always known
i was wired
to self-destruct,
waiting
for my plates
to perfectly align,
so i can blow them all up.
maybe
i should
let myself
detonate.
Apr 29
Apr 29, 2026 at 9:51 AM UTC
i have good days.
just not bright ones.
lately,
they are
favours.
forgiveness
that i ask
from my friends
for the distance
i‘ve put
between us,
for the lies told
with each
how you’ve been.
shelter
my husband provides
instead of going to work
because being alone
is worse
than the shared quiet
of nothing being said
because nothing
could translate
what i feel
in my head.
the world asks
so much of me
and it won’t look away
from the gallery
i curated
by calling it
healing,
honesty and art.
and i’m so tired
of pretending
but i don’t know
how to close it
while people
are still inside
watching me
fall apart.
Apr 29
Apr 29, 2026 at 9:50 AM UTC
i came for what i left behind—
a locker full of things:
perfume, a t-shirt
i didn’t know i had,
and i took off my coat,
(like i planned to stay)
sat on the bench,
(like i belonged there)
hoping no one would notice
how i didn’t.
i wasn’t there to run.
i’ve forgotten how
to move like that—
forward, with purpose.
still, i greeted a machine
like it might remember me,
set the weight,
proved to myself
i could still lift
something.
i stepped onto the belt
and let it carry me—
not running,
not standing,
just not stopping.
i waited
for the breath to change me,
for sweat to wash something clean,
for my body to remember
this used to be joy.
it didn’t.
so i walked
like there was something ahead
if i just stayed long enough—
until my legs gave out,
or i did,
trying to find
whatever it is
that makes people say,
this helps.
Apr 29
Apr 29, 2026 at 9:48 AM UTC
The end of last year, and the beginning of this
Spell something like suspense, a familiar kiss
Upon both my frostbitten cheeks, Hello.
These are chaste waves now, at your window:
Barren is the land of my hand, I write nothing,
And I hope for nothing, still carrying
A foreign slogan by my heart for one
I dedicated my deeds to, who's gone
With my writing, since my girlhood arrived
And said she was here to stay, contrived
To do so until we thaw, until limbo
Passes over, until someone says, Hello,
And I answer. Because I don't want anything
Except, maybe, just not to want anything.
Jan 13, 2024
Jan 13, 2024 at 11:07 AM UTC
If my heart is black,
And my soul is lost.
I, having lost track
Of the hours it has cost.
Can I be free?
The bite of the wind is chilling,
Yet it does not reach my core.
But I stand there, unwilling.
Facing what it has in store.
Can I be free?
The ground sinks,
With one foot in front
It's as though the other shrinks.
Can I be free?
I wish to collapse,
My energy is spent,
Healing the breaks and cracks
With mortar, brick and cement.
Can I be free?
The chains are unshackled,
But no less heavy.
Can I be free?
Bruises and marks appear.
They come as no surprise,
I do not face them with fear,
Nor with weeps and cries.
Can I be free?
This is all unknown,
I am burdened by my mind.
This path is mine alone,
To discover, to unwind.
Am I free?
May 13, 2020
May 13, 2020 at 4:39 PM UTC