Tag: Writing

November 20th, 2022 The rope and the blade, the pill and the bottle, they whisper at the edges of each daily reality. Going through the motions, masking is mandated because the cracks in your smile disturb them. Under the bed, inside the cabinet, ticking off a checklist that has an untouchable task. Information is compiled…

Pain is beautiful in a painting, but depressing in a discussion. A ledger dripping in tears distilled from regrets frozen in time can only be read to the current date. An attempt to read future pages reveals only a confusing calligraphy, intelligible until they too join the pages of the past. Past choices are etched…

October 12th, 2022 She takes so much, even when she’s small. She takes away smiles, opportunities and memories. She takes that moment of home and closes future pathways before they come into view. She breaks trust and corrupts connections, corroding like rust on an adaptor. Once claimed it’s unlikely to regain anything cradled in her…

October 12th, 2022 7 years since we met. I remember the magnolia trees and the tank top you wore. My mother acting like letting me leave was her biggest regret. And yet.   I was captivated by the light in your eyes and the emotion in your smirk. So much power in one person, like a storm compressed into…

In the softness of the night, where lingering rays of dying light trace faint outlines in the depths of the shade, emptiness is full. The empty depths of the darkness hold space for the churning darkness in your chest, straining against white ribs and compressing a crimson heart The night is full of the space…

October 12th, 2022 My happiness is a veil for those who are not curious to peer underneath, a protection for those unwilling to see the weight deep within my chest. My smile is gritted teeth against the hunger for the end, my eyes shine with the reflection of the fire in my heart.

October 12th, 2022 Have you ever had a moment, where you realized wanting to end isn’t normal.  People don’t wake up wishing for an accident. Life drives everything, the reason behind every emotion and the purpose of every action. And yet. When I look at my arms, it’s wishing there were more scars. When I…