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#selfpossession
Today the light arrives without knocking, settles on the table like it belongs there. I don’t ask who left it on or what it’s trying to replace. There was a time your silence rearranged the furniture of my days, when absence leaned so hard on the walls I mistook it for weather. Now it passes through me like a former language – recognizable, but no longer necessary. I carry my sentences without your echo. This light is not hope. It doesn’t promise anything. It simply stays, proof that even discarded voices learn how to burn on their own. I don’t forget what happened. I just don’t kneel to it. The wound has learned my name; it answers now when I call it history.
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Feb 5
Feb 5, 2026 at 1:31 PM UTC
I Don't Kneel To It
Heavy are the thoughts of my crown— shining like praise, sitting like gold, but weighing like stone. A halo to some, a shackle most days. To rule, or to ruin— always my own.   Strangers slip seamlessly into the crowd, _positive, negative_—all charges allowed. Their pull is soft, then suddenly loud. And here I split a poem in two: I am a double entendre, a meaning doubled— a double-edged sword that cuts away the rules, and the cut you take when you refuse. ––– Once formal—but now cutting ties, from those who cut me. Knowing is freedom dressed sharp, but dressed like an excuse. I am the canopy stretched over my throne, the highest branch of dreams I’ve grown. Shade to protect, shade to conceal— comfort by day, a curtain from light. But get under my skin, and you’ll taste the irony— me throwing you shade. You’ll stand in it, unseen in my sight— just another stranger, swallowed by night.
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Sep 18, 2025
Sep 18, 2025 at 5:10 PM UTC
Crown of Shade