I do not wear the brightest colors
they blister on me like false hallelujahs,
like hymns sung by mouths that never tasted ash.
Red is a lie. Yellow screams.
I was meant for grey
for the shade that lives between smoke and surrender.

I hate the sun
its gold teeth, its cruel spotlight.
It peels me open like fruit left out too long.
Give me the sky when it's weeping,
when it folds in on itself like grief
tucked beneath an old coat.

Sweet coffee tastes like apology.
I drink it black
like a widow’s veil,
like ink spilled on a suicide note.
I want the bitterness to bite,
to remind me that even silence can scald.

Joy is foreign
a costume that fits someone else’s ghost.
When I laugh, it echoes wrong,
as if joy is borrowing my voice
and not returning it.
I was stitched from thunderclouds,
from cellar air and moth wings.

I do not like people.
Their voices swarm like flies
around the fruit I’ve already thrown out.
Their love is too loud, too pink.
I crave solitude the sharp knife of it,
clean, precise, and without perfume.

I’ve stood at the edge
of so many beginnings—
just close enough to taste them,
never close enough to stay.
The door always slightly ajar,
never open.
I want to be more than a shadow of almost.

People call me potential,
but never presence.
A promise, not a person.
Their faith feels like fog—
thin and disappearing
the moment I reach for it.
I want to be more than a shadow of almost.

I speak like I know who I am,
but the echo doesn’t agree.
My words crumble in my mouth
before they ever build meaning.
Even my hope sounds rehearsed.
I want to be more than a shadow of almost.

I dream in color,
but live in grayscale.
My hands stretch forward
but always fall short—
of the vision,
of the version
of me I thought I’d be by now.
I want to be more than a shadow of almost.

So I write.
I bleed ink and silence
trying to draw a shape
that feels like truth.
And maybe one day,
I’ll look back
and see I was becoming all along.
I want to be more than a shadow of almost.

I am not my own strength – nor am I my own words
I am not the sum of silver, or rich as the world,
Nor even close to a sliver of gold.

I am not my future – or any better than my own past
I am all of my mistakes made in the present,
And all of the things, hoping to come to pass
Nowhere near a love that endures without question –
Nor the calm; being a life of many, many scars.

I am the quiet battles, that tears praise my triumphs,
The stillness in inner storms, battling emotional riots –
Marvel of flesh, fragile code; built of miracle science
Living in society’s endless bias, where the little
You hope to give, is the hope that will be trampled
Beneath the heels of Giants.

A faith that’s ALWAYS under intense heat
And so many pressures; pressed and refined,
I emerge as a Beautiful Diamond.

scared shitless of the idea that
in a month i’ll probably never see
him again

a constant in my life ever since year 7
someone who awoke something in me
allowing me to see who he is
what am i
without him anchoring me
like a drifting ship to shore

Where lies the gate of this world? I long to escape

She Forgot to Shine*

She watched from shadows, their laughter so bright,
Drawn to their glow, mistaking it for light.
Their crowns gleamed gold, their steps so proud,
She shrank in silence, lost in the crowd.

She painted her face in their borrowed hue,
Wore smiles not hers, masked what was true.
She mimicked their walk, their giggles, their grace,
But nothing she did could win her a place.

She dimmed her glow to mirror theirs,
Traded her truth for secondhand stares.
Ignored the whisper, soft and low—
“Your light is rare, let it show.”

But she wanted their warmth, their golden stage,
So she silenced her fire, caged her rage.
Fed on envy from morning’s first breath,
Planted deceit, reaped hollow death.

O’er—what a sorrowful, sorrowful soul,
Plunged into the very image of perfection,
Drowning in the fleeting fame,
Choking on praise never meant for her name.

She wore their shine, but it burned her skin,
For light not yours won’t glow within.
Now alone, in a mirror she stares,
At a girl who vanished chasing glares.

A ghost of hope, a shadowed shell,
Trapped in a dream that felt like hell.
Her own light waits where she left it behind—
But not all stars get a second time.

Some stories end not with silence, but with a flicker too late—
And a light forever lost to a path never meant.

"We go through life without knowing where we’re headed… We run from things without understanding why they chase us. We do everything expected of us—except what we truly desire. We speak endlessly, yet imprison the words we long to say. Lost in tales of the past and those we’re living, torn between dreams we cling to and those that slipped away unnoticed. We grow accustomed to all that happens and has happened to us, facing life while neglecting ourselves. Our hearts are wearied by fate’s whims and exhausted by the weight of passing days."