In the Café on 7th Street

The apartment was too quiet. I never thought silence could feel so loud. The place I live in now still carries the faint scent of him—burnt coffee, cologne too sweet for my liking, the way his shirts clung to the back of a chair he never pushed in. It’s been years since we ended, yet... Continue Reading →

A Ghost I Can’t Retrace

I watch you laughing, lit in gold,with faces I will never meet;their stories wrap around you, bold,while mine lies folded, bittersweet. I’ve known far more than I let show—the quiet truths between your lines;half-shaded words you let me know,and all the rest you left behind. It stings, but not in ways that last;I bite my... Continue Reading →

Undertow

It comes and goes, this leaving you:like tides that kiss then pull away,a rhythm old, yet always new,that shapes the shore but cannot stay. Some days, the sea lies soft and clear,its breath a lull, its gaze at rest;I almost think you’ve disappearedfrom all the harbors in my chest. But moons still rise, and with... Continue Reading →

Abyss of the Guilty Star

Beneath the hush of hollow skies, I drift,a phantom stitched from all I should have kept.The stars above—once lanterns, now they shiftto stones that weigh me deeper in regret.Their light, once kind, now watches with disdain,while silence folds me in its endless reign. I carved this wreck from hands once meant to shield,let fall the... Continue Reading →

An Open Letter to the One I Still Miss

Some days I convince myself I’ve moved on. That I’m healing. And in some ways, I am. But then there are nights when it all comes rushing back—the ache, the silence, the empty space where you used to be. And I realize I’m still reaching out in the dark, hoping to find you there.

A Few More Nights

I walk through rooms that do not know my name,where silence echoes louder than my breath.Each step, a ghost’s; half-here, half-lost in shame,unseen beneath the weight of nearing death.I’ve smiled in ways that mimic those who heal,while bleeding out behind my quiet eyes.No scream escapes; they’d only call it “real”if blood could form its truth... Continue Reading →

The Things I Ruined

I ruined cooking—the sizzle of garlic in oil stabs like a memory.You'd peek in, sweetly grinning,telling me, "That smells awesome, Love."Now the kitchen echoeswith pots too quiet,a silence that burns worse than the flame.I ruined laundry—each tumble of shirts a cruel cycle,your scent once clinging like a vownow clings like a ghost.We dreamed aloud by... Continue Reading →

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