you are
a burden
I carry
in every breath —
a firestorm
destroying all
ahead.

you are
a monster
waiting for me
to sleep —
an anchor
knotted at my neck,
pulling me
to the deep.

you are
an echo
of my voice
caught in a fight —
the lurking dark
that smothers
all the light.

you are
a void
consuming
the best self I had,
leaving nothing
but the throbbing
in my chest.

and yet,
you are
the question
I can’t answer:
why do I still hold you dear?
that remains a mystery —
even to me.

I tidied the corners,
stories simmered in the chilli,
scattered petals on the grass —
rose-red, next to a single lily.

I’d chosen the music with care,
but laughter co-wrote the score,
each chorus pulling us closer
to something warmer than before.

We bathed in rain, clouds, and sun,
each one carrying a moment,
where secrets come undone,
and quiet truths are spoken.

The fairy lights lit up,
as the world flipped slowly —
a circle of soft goodbyes
turning intimate into holy.

As the solstice faded,
and it struck twelve once more,
a day like this feels sacred,
as the season shifts the shore.

This night won't conclude us,
though the dusk will surely dim.
We are only at the beginning,
on the edge where stories swim.

(on the ten-year anniversary of leaving home)

without looking back,
she boarded a flight,
concealing that piercing anxiety.
to soothe the ache,
packed her language as a guide,
weeping quietly for her country.

recognition came in tears,
stretched paper-thin—
that her home couldn’t yet grasp
that love begins within.

the early years, under flickering lights,
were spent seeking solace.
with inner voices softly humming—
inhaling cheap wine,
books as her compass—
enough to outweigh not belonging.

some nights,
she danced until her heels
worn the skin away,
bleeding her truth into tile,
whilst friends, thick as thieves,
melted into laughter, and gin.

she loved badly,
lit candles to soften the silence
that screamed louder at 3 a.m.,
scribbled poetry
on the walls of her soul—
long forgotten, left forsaken.

her twenties were a strange gift,
she never thought to ask for,
memories scattered down the hallway,
like spilled drinks, laced with honesty.
sometimes the weight is still sore,
and yet she’s walking,
barefoot,
unfolding.

i tear myself open
like a letter
never meant to be read,
until my hands tremble
and each line
bleeds into the next.

i’m the sum of everything
i swore i’d never be —
the cut, the salt,
the silent weight
of an empty glass.

the shell i’m left with
isn’t worth taking up space.
i became my own enemy,
when i ran out of people to blame.