The undertow, pulling me down beneath the surface of serenity.
Currents carrying me through quieted screams, muffled by liquid silence, blocking their airways.

Not my pain to feel, but the echoes of others’ washes over me all the same.

I inhabit their waters.
Sinking quietly.
In my chest carrying what they cannot voice.

Yet in that depth, I find a strange kind of strength…
To feel it all, to inhale the weight like water, and still not drown…

fascinating,
i see me in you.
but bothersome me
is what makes others hesitant,
damage their opinion of i.
yet i see me in you, for once
me is okay, for once
i don’t **** heads with me,
only with you.

the light in your eyes burns
like mine, and we are okay burning,
and i am okay seeing
just me with you.

is it you that i can have
like solitary days
where i don’t have to
face the me of the world?
when i take you, i just face
me with you.

To wait five minutes
is long.
But a year of happiness
is short.

i saw a stranger sing one night.
the memory still lingers
years after the high.
mute swimmer,
a wordsmith from berlin,
brought silence and fire.

he wrote a song
about self-worth and doubt —
the kind we all wrestle,
then bury in our minds.

he’d hear his voice
softly pulsing
with each heartbeat.
instead of leaning
into the dread —
you’ll never make it
you’re worthless —
he’d counter-attack,
asking us
to push them back.

why don’t you
shut
the ****
up.

we’d chant until
it wasn’t about him,
but about us.

why don’t you
shut
the ****
up.

why don’t you
shut
the ****
up.

why don’t you
shut
the ****
up.

Today, I'd like to take a journey
and if you'll allow me, I'd like to take you with.
But don't pack much.
Just bring someone you love.
Go ahead, grab them, I'll wait.
If they're not near, find a photo,
a voicemail, a sweater they wore.
Hold them in your arms
in your mind
however you can;
as if they could vanish when you blink.

Let's walk awhile
through questions we rarely dare to ask

Tell me:
if science offered you a perfect clone
of the one you loved most,
same laugh, same eyes,
same habit of laughing at your jokes, even when they aren't funny
would you say yes?
Or would you find comfort
in their imperfections being unrepeatable?
Do they have any imperfections?

If you and your loved one had one final day:
no illness, no warning,
just 24 hours gifted to the two of you
how would you spend it?
Would you dance in the rain like its a movie?
Would you say things out loud
that your heart's been whispering for years?
Would you smile, laugh, cry, yell?

And tell me:
have you studied their face lately;
like a sky about to lose its stars as the sun peeks over the horizon?
Do you remember the first moment
you knew they were your favorite word
in a language you thought you'd forgotten?

We tend to wait for grief to ask these questions for us
when the voice is gone, the phone is quiet
the sweater is folded in a drawer like a secret tucked away.
But what if we asked now
while we can still kiss the answers?

So,
before this poem ends,
before you scroll,
before time wins its race,
hold them,
call them,
love them,

Tell them the things you'd regret never getting to say.
Watch how their eyes answer you.
Notice how lucky you are
to have someone
worth asking these questions for.

When you sit with your thoughts
Your feelings get lost,
Perhaps bottled up
Far from the world’ reach

But even for you
It’s too far to see
You ask yourself
“How much can stay-
Besides of me?”

The answer shall come
Soon enough
Because the moment you lay-
Wide awake,
You’ll feel those feelings
Like a heavy weight.

Every frequency
screams.

My emotions
stuck at full volume.

It feels like
living
without skin.

I see the world
in a thousand
painful hues,
even joy
hurts
a little
on the way in.

I read silence
like it’s shouting.
I feel the shift
when a sentence
lies.
I catch what hangs
between pauses,
what twists the air
just slightly
out of shape.

I carry a storm,
but people only notice
when the lightning
hits them.

I’ve spent years
bending,
folding,
twisting myself
into smaller
shapes,
trying to pass
for someone
easier
to hold.

I’m the mirror
you avoid
when the mask
starts slipping.
I reflect back
a version of you
in a language
you are not ready
to speak.

Am I too much
for you?
Because I
I’ve spent years
trying to be less
for me.

i say my name
out loud
to an unfamiliar room.

i can’t contain
my worn-out lies
burning through the truth.

they don’t flinch,
they’ve heard
this script before.

“the lower i sink,
the further i stray,
the harder i hit the floor.”

but they’re all ears,
offering silent company,
unravelling their past.

survivors of guilt,
hurt and poetry,
society’s outcasts.

our stories stay,
still shining bright
in sheltered wounds,

as i say my name
out loud
to a familiar room.

You, my darling, see me like no one else.
Every blemish on my face—a work of art.
The way my curls refuse to comply
makes you smile.

You, my darling, hear me like no one else.
All my thoughts are sacred.
All my jokes are funny.
All my woes are real.

You, my darling, fail to hold me.
You just stare when I cry,
look at me with those piercing eyes
when my clothes don’t fit well.

And when the lights are off,
you disappear.

I will see you again in the morning—
if I survive the dark.

my wounds
are ocean-deep.
caution advised.
even seasoned souls,
spotless and sure,
could easily drown.