You don’t have to be great at something to love doing it 🖤 Writing has never been a talent of mine but it has always brought me great joy. I do hope to improve and am always open to feedback.
You don’t have to be great at something to love doing it 🖤 Writing has never been a talent of mine but it has always brought me great joy. I do hope to improve and am always open to feedback.
I can never know if this path is an entry or an exit. So all I can do is prepare for both. The slam rings heavy in my ears, rings heavy in my heart, with the weight of closure. Cold knobs, warm wood, contradictions like myself. I walk over their thresholds , the way you walk over me. I say hello and goodbye at the same time, part of me ahead and a part behind. Only some of these doors have locks, I never know which parts of me I will never see again. Or which parts I might visit later, when the timing is right. I just follow the tiny cracks of light, they peak through, illuminating possibility. All I have to do is walk through.
I feel my throat closing with each word that I read. I am unraveling at the seams. I wish I could stop now, I don’t want to finish the message that I know I can’t unsee. But it has already begun, and ignoring it won’t change.
So with my stomach in knots, I involuntarily let my eyes continue the torturous journey through your crime. You are a killer now, the me before this moment is dead.
She wants to know his secret. He hasn’t decided what it is yet. It isn't that he doesn't want to tell her, it is only that he is a secret to himself. He's been trying to figure it out longer than anyone, so who is she to demand answers? But damn, if he doesn't want to give her answers. He would spill every secret he has, in quiet whispers against her skin. In a scream that burns his throat. Whatever she wanted. Maybe that is his secret now, that despite how strong he is, it is she holds all of the power here. Perhaps together, they can make secrets.
Fading warmth kisses the sky goodbye A day of shining // blinding eyes Rays of hope will always die But again they will rise // brighter than the last The fire grows hotter each time that it tries To swallow the earth // one day it might just do it right _Rays of hope will always _die
Even the wolves don’t come out at night because they’re afraid of what hides in the shadows: being banished here is worse than a death sentence. It creeps in on you slowly, the loneliness. Not lonely in the sense that you have ever felt before. A loneliness that you feel in your bones, breaking you slowly from the inside out. The darkness, so deeply saturating your soul that you can no longer tell if it is coming from around you, or from inside of you. Yes, this void is far worse than death. At least death would have an end in sight. At least I would know my own mind up until the very end. Here, I become a stranger to myself. My insides twisting tortuously slow to match the evil in these shadows, slow enough that I can say goodbye to myself. They never expected me to emerge from this plane of existence, and I suppose they are right in a way. I am not the one emerging. Something far worse is. When am finished with them, they'll be wishing they were the ones banished here.
Tears have healing powers.
That’s what they whispered as the phoenix cried.
Turning its pain into their beauty, into their hope.
But what of the phoenix? Not all pain is art after all.
Sometimes it just hurts
One day those healing tears might just drown out the flames.
Flames that bring the ashes.
Ashes that bring rebirth.
Is it even a phoenix any longer? Now it is just a bird.
A bird has no healing powers.
A bird is not revered.
There is no healing, it only hurts
__
And it does so silently, until one tear was it’s last.
Swallow. Choke it down. They don't really want your truths after all. When they ask how you are, it is all just a test to see how well you keep the words clenched between your teeth. If you bite down on them hard enough, it starts to look like a smile.
Hidden. That's what you are. Your true self is locked away. It is the mask they truly seek anyway. The face you wear in a crowd. The one they find most appealing. That is who they want to keep around.
Guilt. It is all that you feel. When you question all reality, you know that you are not even real. It is your own fault you can not heal wounds left on a ghost. You've doomed yourself to this eternal damnation, somewhere in-between who you are and who you could have been.
It is more cruel, I think, to have allowed us this taste rather than allowing us the bliss of ignorance. I can never know now, the excitement I might have felt at the prospect of stability. Of having my future rolled out like a carpet in front of me, primed and waiting for me to take the first step. That version of me might have been hungry for the success I could have, might have had the drive required for productivity, and for excellence, by societies standards. But..that is not me. Not now, after dipping my toes into the refreshing water of my dreams. It is not as if there aren’t positives awaiting me, once I make the transition. It’s just..it will never be enough. How can I unsee these vivid colors? Everything else will always be dull by comparison. To have seen these what ifs first hand. I might have been able to enjoy the life awaiting me once..but they gave that damn taste. And now, I think I might be willing to give up anything to stay here instead.
