I miss you everyday,

wishing it didn’t end that way,

because since then, nothing has been the same.


I miss you everyday,

as you always put a smile on my face,

for a piece of my heart has been replaced,

with an ache, I cannot take.


I miss you everyday,

wishing there could been a way,

to see you on this very day,

because I wish to have that smile placed,

upon my face, to wash the sorrows away.

Pulled happiness towards myself
                                       Held tight
                                       Grips loosen
                                       It sways away

Pushed sadness back
                             Beyond reach
                             Kept pushing
                             It recoiled

       Emotion is best left
           As an untouched pendulum
           Moving freely within my experience

Like yin and yang,
Opposites attract,
The sadist and the *******,
Could attest to that.
Though their relationship was uncertain,
There was one fact,
He’d never raise a hand to her,
No, he’d never hit her back.

She let out all of her pain,
As she relished in his.
She hoped that he would fight back,
That was her one wish.

He cried out in pain,
As he took each of her kicks,
Feeling pleasure,
Though he was embarrassed to admit it.

The ******* had convinced his mind,
That he needed someone inside his life,
To break away his fleeting pride,
To break him down to where he wanted to die.
He never tried to run.
Why would he?
Who would be there to let his wife,
Blow off steam?
He took all of her blows,
Wiped the blood from his broken nose,
And deep down he knows,
He should get away, but he won’t.

She feels triumphant,
Her heart felt filled,
Laughing at the misery,
She never felt any guilt.
He hides his bruises,
Panting with relief,
As he covers his contusions,
Cursing the reprieve.

The sadist convinced her mind
That she just needed someone to hurt in her life,
Someone to satisfy,
Her parasitic urges before they killed her inside.
She never pushed him away.
Why would she?
Where would she let out her pain?
Who would bring her glee by hurting?
She punched and she beat,
Trying to blow off steam,
An attempt to retreat,
From the loss surrounding her feet.

One day, the sadist hit the *******,
After having beaten him around.
There was no scream, there was no cry,
Just a thump as he crashed onto the ground.
The sadist dropped the hammer,
And hid her mouth behind her hands,
Thinking she killed the love of her life.
The previous pleasure,
Faded to more pain,
As she cried and sobbed,
His blood left a nasty stain.

She called the police,
And turned herself in,
They took him away in an ambulance,
As she was in cuffs.
She felt no peace,
Her heart now broken,
Their fractured romance,
Was never enough.

But the ******* wasn’t dead,
And awoke months later in a hospital bed.
Paralyzed down from his neck,
He wouldn’t feel much of anything again.
While the sadist spent the rest of her days,
Locked in a cell, boiling with her pain.
She promised that if she ever got to see the light of day,
She’d go to the ******* and say,
How sorry she was, and she’d try to change.

Yin and yang,
Forever broken apart,
Though opposites may attract,
They can also shatter and leave scars.
The relationship,
Long gone,
But does anybody,
Win in the end?
No,
Nobody does.

Lies are mercy, aren't they?
Little bandages over wounds too raw to touch,
soft words wrapped around a blade-
because what's a little blood between friends?

They call them shadows.
but don't they have weight?
Haven't they sat beside us at dinner tables,
held our hands at funerals.
kissed our foreheads goodnight?
Haven't they whispered in our ears-
"Shh. The truth would only ruin this."

People wear them like armor,
stitched with good intentions
because nothing says I care
like a well-tailored deception.
But armor rusts.
Tongues slip.
And no one likes the taste of old lies.

They lie because the world doesn't want the truth
Because the mirror would rather blur the cracks
than reflect the hollow-eyed thing staring back.
Because I'm fine
is easier than I haven't slept in days.
Because It's okay
is a free pass to avoid confrontation.
Because some truths burn.
and some people would rather drown in gasoline
than risk lighting the match.

Lies keep love alive, don't they?
One says, I'll never leave.
The other doesn't ask What if you do?
One says. I trust you.
They both pretend it's true.
Betrayals become misunderstandings.
Silence becomes space.
Absence becomes freedom.
Say it enough, and it sounds real.
Believe it enough, and maybe it doesn't hurt.

But lies don't stay small.
They grow ribs
Grow teeth.
Learn to walk on their own.

They slip from tongues like prayers-
practiced, automatic.
holy in their own way.
They turn love into a contract.
guilt into a leash,
truth into an inconvenience.
They say, You are safe.
They say. You are right.
They say. You had no choice.

Then-
a crack in the mask,
a break in the voice,
a silence too loud to ignore.

And suddenly, the truth isn't some mythical beast,
not a monster waiting under the bed.
If's just there, standing in the doorway.
waiting. Watching.
Tired of being the villain in
someone else's story.

Lies aren't mercy, are they?
Just wounds left open too long-
festering, rotting, waiting to be called by
their real name

I wasn’t crying.
I was hydrating my grief
from the inside out.

He said, “You’re not dramatic. Just detailed.”
I said, “You’re not cruel. Just consistent.”
We called that a compromise.
(or else a hostage negotiation.)

There’s glitter in my carpet
from a party I threw
to prove I wasn’t waiting on him.
I wore white.
Not bridal,
but still white enough
to make someone feel guilty.

I lit sparklers like sirens,
toasted survival.
Nobody clapped.

I collect apologies I don’t want,
write scripts for confrontations
that end in standing ovations,
then lose the footage
in a hardware crash
I secretly caused.

I take the stairs two at a time,
just to feel something chase me.
I text “I’m fine :)”
like it’s a safe word—
to keep the spiral
polite.

I rehearse the voicemail
he never left
like it’s Chekhov.
Like if I say it right,
the gun goes off
and I disappear
beautifully.

At the end of the dream,
he’s always wearing my hoodie—
saying something tender,
just slightly
too late.

And I wake up
with eyelashes on my wrists,
thinking—
Maybe I am the problem.
But God—
you should’ve seen the poems.

Put on right out of the womb, a crown was placed on her head
5 diamonds are placed to represent each burden
Perfection
Therapist
Extra parent
No remembrance of her childhood
And giving when there's nothing left to give
As the years go on, she will make mistakes
Hers being the hardest to forgive
She will take the pain and burdens of the ones who brought her into this world and others without a second of hesitation and still feel as if she is not enough
She will me extraordinarily mature for her conquest asked of her
But not nearly mature enough for what she wants
She will put every person before her
But when she does something for herself, she's called selfish and lazy
She surrounds herself with books to take her to a place that expects nothing but the flip of a page
Countless times,
She will compare herself to others
She will stay up late working on that paper to get extra points just to please her parents
She will have impossible expectations to meet
Do you know who she is?
She's the eldest daughter
She won't want to have kids for the fear of putting her oldest through the same pain
But most of all, she won't get what she craves the most
Unconditional love

You agonize the narrow
I must leave you there
To tenderize the pharaoh
Layer lush and ample fabric bare
Share the weight of marrow
Several stones to spare in tow
Though one good strike, straight as arrow
Between the breast would **** the sparrow

Recognize the symbols
Mind maneuvers nice and nimble
Cracking fingers thumping chest
Lay them down to rest in thimbles
Grasping straws like thorns in thistles
Language lingers, yearns to click
Waiting for a whistle
Brain is Pavlov, oilslick
Alchemizing maladies
To blunt the morning pistol

Bathe in shattered pools of thought
Meddling in silence
Betwixt a tug and vice grip
Stands the one who shapes with violence
Defend the winding gauntlet
Soothed by gentle guidance
Send the snare in riveting
For snakes who break from Camelot
And those who sleep with science