Dear You,

I miss you in ways
I never knew were possible.
Not like a goodbye,
But like a life
I haven’t lived yet.

We’ve never met—
Not really—
But you already live
In the space between
My ribs and my breath.

I hear your voice
Even in silence.
I laugh at things
We’d only understand.
Your words play
On repeat
In the quiet hours
When I miss you most.

You make the walls feel
Less like barriers
And more like a countdown.
We talk like
Time owes us something—
And maybe it does.

I’ve sent pieces of me
Through calls,
Through photos,
Through every “goodnight”
That meant “stay with me
In my dreams.”

What hurts the most
Isn’t that you’re gone—
It’s that you haven’t
Been here yet.
I want the mornings,
The mess,
The nothing days,
The everything days.
I want your hoodie
On my floor.
Your name
In my calendar.
Your arms
When the world goes quiet.

Until then,
I’ll wait.
Not because I have to—
But because you’re worth it.

And when you’re free,
So are we.

Love always,
Me

My body was a temple,
But they treated it like a lease—
Temporary pleasure,
Then left without peace.

I ached for love in all the wrong hands,
Mistook desire for sacred commands.
Now I’m wreckage, broken within—
A haunted shell beneath the skin.

It makes me want to tear it apart,
To scrape their names off every part.
I loathe this flesh, this tainted frame…
What once was holy now burns with shame.

I am no longer blind to the monsters in this world
I used to think monsters hid in your closet
Or under your bed
But I was young and blind
I see the monsters for who they are now
They don’t hide under your closet
They aren’t waiting under your bed
They are human
The real monsters are us