The room sagged, a heartbeat heavy with rosewood and dusk,
the kind of smell that reminds you of loss before it even arrives.
She moved like a dream someone forgot to finish—
feet barely touching the ground,
a laugh sharp enough to cut the silence,
and soft enough to leave it bleeding.

A single candle. One flame. One moment.
The wax slid down in slow-motion,
ancient rivers carving a map nobody could follow.
She closed her eyes and blew,
and the world coughed, staggered,
like a drunk trying to remember the way home.

The dark had teeth that night.
Her tears carried galaxies—
tiny universes wrapped in the memory of something
too big to name, too loud to quiet.
Each scar was a story;
each story a secret she’d never speak aloud.
Abandonment wasn’t just a shadow;
it was a shadow that knew her name.

Angels didn’t wear halos here.
They had fists. They broke doors.
They screamed louder than the thoughts in her head,
and for a moment—just one—
she thought about stepping off the edge.
But the edge folded itself into something softer,
like rain dissolving into the ocean—
gone, but never really leaving.

She drifted then.
The river was black velvet, and she was the needle,
slipping beneath the surface of her own reflection.
Mirrors stared at mirrors stared at mirrors,
each one laughing a little quieter than the last.
The serpents in her veins stretched lazy and golden,
curling around her like a lullaby that forgot how to end.

She stood naked in that moment—
not in body, but in soul.
Womanhood wasn’t a choice; it was a verdict.
It wrapped her in smoke and shadow,
a shroud that smelled like desire and regret.
The world didn’t notice. It never does.
She disappeared slowly,
a ripple in the fabric of something too big to understand.

Her voice was a whisper woven from silk and static.
It found him. Only him.
His name hit the air like a match on gasoline,
burning white-hot and hollow.
She unraveled in the glow—
her edges ash, her center a flicker
fighting to stay lit.

Morning didn’t rise; it crept.
The air tasted like regret and cigarettes.
Dust floated in the sunlight,
a million little infinities caught
between forgetting and forgiving.
Love lay there, cold and still,
its mask cracked just enough
to show the liar beneath.

The child moves,
blindfolded,
stumbling through the trembling air,
Hands grazing the rough bark of trees, the cool breath of stone.
Laughter rises, thin as thread, spinning through the dark—
A thread they cannot follow,
only pull,
only pull,
Until the world dissolves,
and home is only a memory of warmth.

In the schoolyard sun,
The moon cast its spell,
A shadow on her eye
Where secrets swelled.
Her smile cut sharp,
Like a blade left cold,
Not for love, not for trust,
Not a story to be told.

The siren screamed,
Oh, how it wailed,
Inside her chest,
Where her strength had failed.
We walked right past,
We didn’t even see,
A girl in the dark
Where the light should be.

And the window cracked
On a midnight breeze,
Her truth came crashing
Like falling leaves.
We said, “Poor girl,”
But it was too late—
We traded her soul
For a twist of fate.

She spilled her trust,
Like blood on the floor,
And her mama turned away,
Couldn’t love her no more.
The cards reshuffled,
The lies changed hands,
And we just stood by
In a hollow land.

She was sinking, yeah,
In a silent tide,
We said, “Ain’t it strange,
How still waters lie.”
Her mind went dim,
A house turned to stone,
And we told ourselves
She’s fine alone.

Oh, but the moon rose high,
And her fire went black,
Ashes in the wind
That’ll never come back.
She burned down quiet,
No cries, no sound—
Just a shadow of a shadow,
Lost underground.