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You remind me of the moon

Calm and collecting

Mesmerising whilst reflecting

Yet I plead you not to swoon

You look at my face

Like I give you the stars

While you cherish my scars

With every single trace

With every pencils brush

You make me flush

Your eyes they shine

Alone in mine
Wondering how we got so close
Your voice, your eyes, your words they lure me in
Locked away secrets spilling
Flowing over my tongue like waterfalls
As whilst I’m falling myself
Trusting you to catch me blindly
I’d like to find the words
to cut right through the muck,
but when it comes to you
you know that I’m just stuck,

I ready up the blades
and soap clean my hands,
to work toward the heart
no matter where it lands—

All the things—
We said—
Will forever be dead—

But I’ll hold on—
Instead—
You’ll always live inside my head.
I think the words mean what I mean to say.
prayed for love,
prayed for life,
prayed for hope—

searched for,
longed for
something more

than just
a reason to believe,
a reason to
be less alone.

i prayed for days
to take
the pain away,

but the pain
was mine
to bear.

and the cross—
my testament,
a vow

to never let
fear interfere.

but one prayer
remains unanswered:

will i
make it
out okay?

surely,
because i hope—

it doesn’t always
have to stay
this way.
Sometimes the loudest prayer is the one left unanswered. This piece is a quiet reckoning with pain, faith, and the fragile hope that tomorrow might feel different. Inspired by Anberlin’s 'Nothing More,' it’s a reminder that even in the silence, you are not alone."
woke up  
on tuesday morning,  

one foot  
in front of the other.  

no rush,  
no hurry—  

just me,  
blue and under  
the weather.  

i used to find  
sunshine  
in so many places,  

but i lost  
the best  
i’ve ever had—  

and now,  
the sun feels  
a little colder
now.

i wonder  
whether  
it gets better.  

i used to be  
a goal-getter.  
now i’m in overdrive,  

short-term PTSD—  
nerves wrecked,  
spirit stretched.  

so many days  
crying,  
wondering if  
this ever ends—  

’cause i’m tired  
of living  
a bittersweet story,  

and tired  
of being  
down bad.  

you were  
the best—  

the best  
i’ve ever had.
There are mornings where the sunlight doesn’t hit quite the same—when grief lingers in the corners of routine, and you realize you're no longer who you used to be.

Inspired by All Time Low’s "The Weather", this piece reflects the quiet unraveling after losing someone who felt like your sun.
fragrance lingers after rain as rot lingers after new dawn
i knew you once and more but never enough
and we loop over and over folding and converging and haunting me into the abyssal distance of time
and now i sink
but i promise
i never forgot your scent
Poem 2 of the 'Streams of Longing' series
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