Category: NaPoWriMo

Let us compare our scars like trophies
but only the pretty ones,
the ones that bleed in symmetry.
Let us envy joy once it is edited
and call it inspiration,
then whisper our mockery
just loud enough to feel better.

Let us tear down those who made it
so we do not feel so small.
Let us wear our wounds like medals,
tilted toward the light,
framed in a caption that says just enough.

Let us auction our ache
to the highest bidder in hearts.
Let us gorge on attention
and starve for affection.
Let us forget the comfort of silence.

Let us scroll past the wreckage
we quietly created.
Let us forget we were human
before we became content.

Let us drown in the noise
and call it connection.
Let us.

I tried so hard to be myself
that I became someone else,
a voice echoing
in another’s mouth.

I don’t understand the ripples
in still waters.
I don’t know
the sound of a stone
piercing the heart
of a lake.

It’s as if
I never heard
the words I said,
as if they were
whispers into the unknown.

And yet,
here I am,
framing my ghosts
on shadowed walls
of the past selves
I never knew.

Once,
I was a feather.
I was a key.

I’ve been gone
from myself
for too long.

The light is blinding,
the sun is burning,
and I step forward.

I wish for shadows
to hide,
to rest,
to breathe,
to become who I was
before the veil of night
stole me away.

Through salt and ash
I see the stars.
Wild thoughts
dressed up as silence.
Your touch is fleeting
like the breeze.
And I try
to be the wind in a cage.

I run from me
to hide in you.
But you are gone.
I look around
and turn in circles.

I am feeling all this space
but no arms to keep safe.
I am waiting away.
Wasting away.

You chained me
to your drowning mind
and I cannot swim.

I became a scar on your wrist.
A reflection in the sea.
Nothing we see
at night.
An eclipse of the moon.

Whispers of silent gold
play with my hair,
pulling me from dreams
where my secrets sleep.

I fell into a well of speak and spell
Where silence blooms and stories sell
I want to fly but my wings won’t dry
So I sit with ghosts and wonder why

I play it cool, I keep things light
I take the blame to make it right
Pretending calm, forgetting how
To be the one you buried now

i am a rainbow vanishing in the light.

the shadow remains my curtain.

in the brushing river I am a stone

cold. untouched. invisible.

no one is allowed to see who I truly am.

hidden behind mysterious eyes.

who do you think I am if forever is fornever?

am I yours or am I not?

Light kisses my shoulder, reminding me of you.
Your hand rests low on my hip,
fingers mapping slow constellations
into skin still humming from night.

Your mouth finds the hollow of my neck
like a promise,
your breath warm, unhurried,
a language only I understand.

We move like waves—
not to get anywhere,
but to feel the pull,
to drift closer,
again and again.

The sheets remember our rhythm.
The world forgets us.
And in this quiet,
nothing outside this moment
calls us.

And what if I forget to dance in the rain?
What if I don’t understand the clapping of the thunder?

Would I still be myself,
if joy no longer felt like puddles beneath bare feet,
or the sky’s applause didn’t echo in my chest?

What if I pass through a storm
and only feel the wet on my skin,
no excitement,
no music carried on the wind?

Will the rain remember
the girl who once twirled beneath its song,
or will it fall in whispers,
hoping I hear the silence?

I love you,
even when I drown
when the tide writes over me
with ink
and blood.

Desire claws at the air between us,
away from the lighthouse,
away from safety.

This is my confession,
lost in the storm,
a whisper
swallowed by the sea.

In my heart of stone,
in the frost of my veins
you are the pulse
of forgotten hopes
and memories.

I shatter the frame
they put me in
to grow into my own skin.

You are my shadow.
And this is the shape
you take
in my book of life.

For once,
silence held no weight.
No words,
just the way we looked
into each other’s eyes.

The sky opened softly,
but we didn’t flinch.
We kissed in the rain
as time stood still.

The world around us blurred,
fading to whispers.
I felt your breath,
not as sound,
but as home.

And for a moment,
everything made sense.
Me, being born from you.
You, an echo of me.

The air is heavy with almosts.
Even the walls seem to miss you.
They echo less now,
as if they, too,
are trying not to break.

The silence sounds like you,
and I forgot how you taste.
The memory flickers
but never settles.
A ghost of you lingers
in the folds of sleep,
fingertips tracing the shape of loss,
lips that never reach mine.

I wake to the scent
of something unfinished,
a presence
just beyond reach.
Your name,
still warm on my tongue,
but fading,
like light through closed eyes.
And still,
the air is heavy
with almosts.

It comes and goes
You feel she knows
It’s left unsaid
Before you met

To taste her skin
To let her in
You’ll curse the night
That felt so right

You dream of hope
Untangled rope
She calls you home
Then turns to stone

You crave her gaze
But it betrays
Peace in her eyes
She’s your demise.

Liquid moonlight. Golden stormfight. Hidden inside.
Salt skin.
Cold sheet.
Rain smoke.
Raw heat.

Low moan.
Spine arched.
Ash lingers.
Lips dry.

Pulse skips.
Jaw clenched.
Air thick.
World fades.

Am I a riddle
hidden in half-moments,
a secret curled beneath the ink,
too quiet, too soft to echo,
a whisper lost in stormlight?

Or am I a ripple
unfolding through silence,
a breath that stirs the surface,
barely seen but almost felt,
a faint trace in still water?

Maybe I am both,
a paper cut never noticed,
a scar that prickles at full moon.
Am I a question
that breathes in someone else’s mouth?
An answer
that can never be found?