I
Like to
Think, it's permanently
Gone.

Suddenly around the bend,  
Darkness
Doth
Decend.

So alone
In the vacuum of space,
If I dissappear,
Would there be
A
Trace?

On this cold summer morning, I pull my extra cover over my hairless aging legs. The moon seems to be going through some strange end times faze.
I enjoy my coffee and dare to watch the dreadful world news, nothing seems to changes, we’re still being lied to.
Hidden bigotry in plain sight,
manufacturing a reason to strike.
When will the cold morning fade
into the restful sleep of yesterday’s
……….

Let’s not pretend
That's in the back of your mind
In the darkest rooms you visit
Or the dead of night
You’re not trembling.

For the monster under your bed,
Is the one lurking behind the mirror
And every day you give up,
Its image becomes clearer.

for as long as i can remember,
i’ve been chasing perfect,
tight-laced, gold-star, quiet ache.
and for a while,
i think i caught it.

but i’m not perfect anymore.
i flinch too easy,
snap too fast,
leave texts unread,
pick at scabs that should’ve healed.

people still call me smart, kind, strong,
and i don’t correct them.
it’s easier to wear the mask
than explain the mess underneath.

i disappoint myself
in small, sharp ways,
forgetting, avoiding, breaking down.
i say “i’m fine”
because it’s faster
than confessing i’m not.

expectations stick like static,
even when no one says them out loud.
and i still feel guilty
for letting people love
someone i no longer recognize.

If stars charm the night ,
the moon a bright guiding light,
our love must be right.