You never took up space,
And raged only in private.
I know, I was there.

I heard your natural voice
Before it was edited and rebranded.

But you've always been magnificent.

Back then your innocence was
hazardous to your health.
I was there.

I loved you enough to hide you.

I held closed your wounds in
The quiet embrace of the closet.

You're older now,
Outpacing the daydreams
that kept you alive.

Brandishing a loose razor
To cut only through the dogma.

You held on to life then,
And you hold all the power now.

I am there.

🖤

Just pray
you don’t push me far enough
to show you
how heartless I can be.

I’ve buried mercy
for those who went too deep.

I’ve smiled
while walking away from flames
I used to feed.

There’s a silence in me
darker than rage,
a calm
that doesn’t beg,
warn,
or explain.

🖤

🫵

Tell me..

who betrayed you?

Not a stranger,
never a stranger.

Strangers don’t get close enough
to wound that deep.

It was a relative,
with your blood in their mouth.

A friend,
with your secrets in their grip.

A lover,
whispering forever
while packing knives.

Or maybe
that one person you trusted
more than yourself.

Betrayal wears
a familiar face.

It always knows
exactly where to aim.

The worst isn’t death.
Death is honest.
It arrives, it ends.
Clean.

The worst is staying.
Breathing.
Functioning.
While everything that made you you
quietly rots beneath the skin.

When you watch your passions
starve to death
and can’t even bother
to grieve them.

When the people you loved
become background noise,
and you answer with nods
because words cost too much.

When nothing is worth arguing for,
and silence feels
like mercy.

This isn’t a fall.
It’s slow erasure
each day
another fingerprint gone
from the glass.

Until one morning,
you look in the mirror
and meet
a very polite stranger.

Rise—for even the heavens seem displeased with your sleep, O’ unripe heart!
You've lost that lightning, that spectacle, that celestial art.

How long will you slumber in the chains of dust and clay?
You are a spark that even destiny cannot delay.

Know thyself—for you are the light of the eternal scheme,
One piercing glance of yours can resurrect a dream.

If you will it, you can command the stars in flight—
If not, your fate remains a captive of endless night.

This world depends on you—you are the rhythm of time,
Drunken self-forgetfulness has robbed you of your prime.

Set fire to every tune that moans the dirge of imitation,
Transform yourself—the current of time bends to your creation.

Ignite a longing, birth a flame, become a living blaze—
Let a tempest rise in your heart, and dawn break through your gaze.

You are not merely a drop in the ocean’s vast expanse—
You are the ocean itself, flowing free in your sacred dance.

It doesn’t scream.
It whispers
soft as ash
settling
where fire used to be.

It lives
in the pause
before you speak your truth,
in the mirror
you half avoid
each morning.

It wears your voice
in rooms where you shrink,
calls itself “just tired,”
“just busy,”
“just fine.”

It is the bruise
you forget to touch,
the silence
you defend
with a smile too wide.

No blood.
No scar.
Just the slow unraveling
of who you were
before you believed
you were not enough.

Contemplation

I find myself sitting here for a moment, gathering my thoughts like fragile treasures in my hands, collecting my heart as it stretches across the night sky. I carve out a sanctuary where I can discover a bit of solitude and tranquility. I inscribe my faith onto this page, creating a space for reflection.

I write a name that brings serenity to my weary mind—a name that envelops me in peace: God. This peace fortifies me against the relentless pressures of a life that sometimes feels foreign to me.

Even now, I struggle to fully understand how living with PTSD has transformed my mind. At times, I find clarity, while at other moments, simply existing feels overwhelming. Yet one truth remains clear: I have weathered storms before, and during those trials, God stood by my side. Even in uncharted territories, he is already there, waiting.

He was with me when my world felt like it was collapsing, bursting apart from within, and he remains with me now. So, I take a few more deep breaths, pondering the depth of his love for us. How can it be that he loves us so beyond measure? Yet, he does.

-Rhia Clay