Click. Flutter. Flash.

I don’t want this moment to pass.

I watch as you smile— a dimple forms on your right cheek, your laughter a quiet tremor in the air. Slowly, my hand slides up, fingertips meeting the warmth of your skin. My heart races, my head spins.

Click. Flutter. Flash.

I shouldn’t feel this way. I shouldn’t want to hold on. This feeling—twisted, tangled— it wasn’t meant for me. Not for you. Not for us.

Your laughter fades, your eyes searching mine. The weight of silence between us— heavy, unbearable, too much to name.

Click. Flutter. Flash.

I see the question forming in your gaze. I see the answer I already fear. I see everything. And I see nothing at all.

The curtain rustles— cool air rushes in as you step out, your footsteps echoing away.

I stay. Frozen.

The pictures flutter to the floor— captured moments, ghosts of something unspoken, something never meant to last.

My gaze lingers on the form of her flawless curves, a body too pristine, too unmarked by life’s touch. Her flat stomach —smooth, a void of any story, no ripples of time, no whisper of struggle.

No stretch marks carve their histories there, no soft dimples of flesh, no mortal proof. Her skin, a polished marble lie, cold and untouched — I long to chisel, to crack.

Her nose, a delicate, thoughtless thing, never bent, never shaped by pain. No defiant arch, no earned imperfection, just a small, perfect insult to my longing.

Her legs, thin as her silence, smooth as if untouched by movement. No curve of strength, no swell of effort, only slender lines mocking my own.

And her hair— God, her hair — cascading, full, never wilting, never flattened by the weight of days, never betraying a single root.

She is a portrait, not a person, a thing too whole, too faultless to be real. And yet, here she stands, while I unravel at the seams.

From fields of wheat to city-lit streets I have seen the world and the people change. But the hands that grasp, the mouths that preach, Have never softened, only rearranged.

I have curled at the feet of wise young girls, Watched them blossom, watched them burn. Men feared the fire in their words and hands- So they lit their own, took turns.

I saw my first girl swallowed by flames, Labeled witch for knowing too much. The next one hanged, the rope bit deep, For daring to lead, for daring to touch.

Through centuries I passed from hand to hand, A silent witness to their pain. A mother, a daughter, a sister, a wife— Each one told to know her place.

And now, you say the world has changed. No more burnings, no more noose. But I have seen the way they twist their fire— Now it’s laws, now it’s news.

They take your voice, they take your name, They mock, they doubt, they rearrange. They tell you choice is yours alone, Then build the walls, then lock the cage.

You stroke my fur and whisper low, “It isn’t like before.” But child, I have seen the world revolve— And I have heard those words before.

You left me there —barren, exposed— A lamb in the night, waiting for the blade, A wilted thing reaching for the sun, Not knowing light alone wouldn’t save me.

I wrapped myself in the fabric of your words, Thin threads of deceit, woven with ease, A safety net you spun for your next prize, Leaving me to fall, to fray, to freeze.

But time has passed, and so have you. The sun still shines, but now I drink deep, Roots uncurled from barren ground, No longer clinging, no longer weak.

And now you return, with hands outstretched, But I stand tall, no longer pleading. The nights are warm, my soul is fed — I have grown, and you are no longer needed.

As the moon’s soft glow gives way to the sun’s bright gaze, it beholds the flowers once crushed in the shadows of your night. You reach to save them, to lift them from the soil, but they cannot be restored. For in the dark, you trampled them, and by day, you hid, as the sun witnessed their fall.

Cold water feels warm when you’re freezing I need affection I need attention I starve anything you will give me You are my new addiction I will seize any moments that you give me with my mouth and body Appeasing Pleasing Eagerly meeting your lips with my tongue Wishing that with your touches I can come undone But when you’re freezing, cold water feels warm.

A peaceful silence envelops me as I descend into the darkness. My eyes lock onto the shimmering bubbles, their surfaces catching the sunlight like tiny mirrors. I reach out—not towards the surface, but toward the bubbles themselves. They weave through my fingers, leaving a trail of fleeting kisses, delicate and bittersweet, as though they know I may never see them again.

The last of my breath escapes my lips. The taste of life vanishes, replaced by the briny sting of salt. I close my eyes, and the sunlight fades, swallowed by the deep.

When I open them again, the sound of running water fills my ears. Soapy bubbles coat my hands, glistening under the warm light of the present.

I blink and glance around. The kitchen is quiet, save for the hum of the dishwasher and the rush of water from the tap. Plates stack precariously beside the sink, a half-empty coffee mug sits forgotten on the counter. The air is thick—not with salt, but with the heavy weight of loneliness.

The bubbles slip through my fingers here too, fragile and fleeting, disappearing before I can hold on to them. I stare at the water pooling in the sink, and the ache in my chest feels the same as it did in the depths of my vision. I’m not drowning in water, but in the vast emptiness of my own reality.

Here in the kitchen, I am still sinking.

It consumed you

The darkness still lingers

It grows into the cracks

The shallow parts of your soul

But within those cracks

Light can shine

If you give yourself enough time

**Cut and paste **

** Cut and paste **

Won’t you be my saving grace

I pray towards my flaws and my sins

The more you hide, the less they’ll pry

Why can’t I just satisfy

The look behind your wondering eyes

**Cut and paste **

** Cut and paste **

Why do I have to waste away, as you roam

I thought that I was good enough

I changed myself and that was tough

Now you have left me

And I’m all alone

**Cut and paste **

** Cut and paste **

Why can’t I not erase

The feeling without you here

My reflection stares back at me

I’m crying out to you,

“ Would you please … come home to me ?”

**Cut and paste **

** Cut and paste**

Please just look at my face

I’ve done this all for you.

I’ve worn these masks, I’ve played this part,

But now I’m lost, with a heavy heart.

In this reflection, I can’t deny,

I search for answers, but wonder,

_ “Who am I?”_

I bite the hand that feeds me,
So that maybe it’ll let me starve.
A twisted wish, a selfish plea,
To push away, to break apart.

I see the care, I feel the love,
Yet something pulls me from their touch.
It’s not enough, it’s never enough—
I want to be left cold, untouched.

I bite the hand that feeds me,
To free myself from all they give.
A weight too heavy, a light too bright—
I can’t accept the will to live.

I want the silence, want the void,
No comfort in their kind embrace.
I push them back, avoid their eyes—
To lose myself, to lose the race.

I bite the hand that feeds me,
So that maybe it’ll let me go.
I am selfish in this twisted way,
For my own needs, I hurt them so.