i don’t remember when i stopped having control over my life
it’s probably when i said “it’s fine.”
when it wasn’t

now i ride along in the train, i call my mind
yellow seats forming
showcasing the fading joy i once felt

there’s also a red seat.
a concerning seat
a seat i never imagined myself sitting in
a seat that represents me, as a whole, diminishing away
where i had my own personality
my own style
my own feelings
my true and original self
a self that will never be seen again

I know this seems like contradiction
But I wish I wasn’t just my fiction
I wish they’d closely read my pages
And see through my false scenes and stages

I wish they’d squint and try to see
The text that’s true, that’s real, that’s me
Instead they glance just once, so quick
Not reading pages stacking thick

I made this front, it’s me to blame
I hid my truth in fear of shame
I feel regret as people glance
Towards my false curated stance

The narrative that they all read
Is someone else, not true, not me,
My want for love drove me to burn
All that I was so love was earned

I crafted quickly my own fiction
Showed off my hollow, fake depiction
I forged and locked my gilded cage
The “pretty” hides the rotting page

If someone picked me up right now
And saw past all lies I allow
I don’t think they could even read
The mottled text as truly me

Words shifted from their origin
The lies, the stains that I poured in
Blur with the truth, no one can tell
Not friends, not loves, not my own self

I changed so much to fit their wants
That I can’t read my own **** fonts
I killed my truth, now none will see
The faded, burned, authentic me

I caught the deep inky blue of it
in bottles
labeled 'pleasing'
and set them on a shelf
next to bowls full of tears
and baskets full of unwanted memories.
It was cold
aching like limbs in the winter
sip it,
let the ice unfurl,
bitter on your tongue,
grief catching
in your throat
before settling into the pit
of your stomach,
like a swallowed apple seed.
one day the winds came
knocking all of the bottles down
and all around in the broken air,
ruptured by the fragmented glass,
screams - starved and rising
screams shattering bone
screams - ringing
wild and ragged
at last.

Two Wounds That Haunt My Heart

In a hallowed halls of memories, two pains reside,
The thought of you and what you did inside.
A delicate balance, a fragile line,
Between love's deceit and heart's confine.

One wound, a ghostly whisper of what used to be,
Your presence now is a bittersweet memory.
Your words, a melody that once echoed sweet,
Now a haunting refrain that my soul does beat.

But another cut, a deeper **** within,
Is the knowledge of the hurt you brought to kin.
How could you tell such lies with a gentle tone?
And smile, while breaking hearts, all alone?

You saw my pain, and chose to ignore,
To hide behind a mask of love's dark core.
Yet still, you spoke those three words so dear,
"I love you," but did they bring me cheer?

Or were they empty vows, a clever guise,
Meant for ears that didn't question or realize?
For when you shared them with others in delight,
Did they hold any truth, or was it just a night?

We should have seen, we should have known,
Better than to trust a love that's turned to stone.
But now, I'm left to pick up the shattered pieces,
And wonder why, oh why, did we not notice all the creases.

I wish I am the chosen one,
the one that is so essential,
can I be better in the future?
I can’t even answer that.

Like a mirrorball suspended in a dimly lit room,
I will only say, “yes!”,
“you can have that” “you can do that”,
I would never say no,
I don’t dare to,
fret that I’ll hurt their feelings,
but did they think the same way?
this time, the answer is yes.

Sometimes, I wish I knew everything,
the scent of uncertainty lingering in the air,
sometimes, I wish I knew nothing,
the taste of regret like bitter coffee on my tongue,
either way, I’m a mirrorball
the one that’s just there,
the gentle hum of unnoticed existence,
no one even notices it,
until they need it.

Like a mirrorball, when it’s break
it’s shattered into a million pieces,
the sound of splintering glass echoing in the silence,
but that’s what makes it shine,
the dazzling light refracting through the shards,
that’s what gives it attention.

it feels like,
life
is of 3 three things.
You get hurt,
and they walk away fine.
they get hurt,
and you walk away guilty.
or occasionally,
not common.
and rarely to ever happen,
you both,
walk away forcefully
knowing that you both have torn each other's heart
apart.
knowing that you truly want to be together,
but it's not worth It.
and now you both, are hurting.