LOVE and LOST

Darkness

Some days, the world is dim and gray,

and even light feels far away.

A quiet weight rests on the chest,

turning simple things into a test.

Smiles grow tired, hope feels thin,

and battles rage deep within.

Yet somewhere soft beneath the pain,

a heart still beats through every rain

waiting for a day

when warmth returns again.

-Too Deep

Since you left,

the days have blurred

into something colorless

a world drained hollow, where morning comes

but gives me nothing to wake for.

Everything feels heavy now

my body, my thoughts,

even breathing seems like work

when grief settles this deep inside the bones.

I sleep too much

just to escape myself, or not at all

lying awake with memories

that replay like cruel ghosts

I cannot shut out.

Food has no taste, music has no comfort,

laughter from others sounds distant

like life is happening somewhere

I can no longer reach.

The hardest part is not only missing you,

it is losing myself

in the wreckage of losing us.

Becoming someone tired, empty,

and haunted by what was,

carrying a sadness so sharp

it feels endless like I am alive,

but no longer truly living.

-Wanting To Be Gone

There’s a storm that lives inside my chest,

loud enough to drown out the rest

a restless ache, a constant pull,

a mind that won’t stay quiet or still.

It whispers things I’m scared are true,

that I am less, that I am through,

that pain is all I’ll ever be,

and there’s no version left of me.

Some nights, the weight feels far too much,

like I might break beneath its touch

like silence might be easier to find

than carrying this crowded mind.

But somewhere buried, small and faint,

beneath the noise, beneath the pain,

there’s still a part that wants to stay,

that hopes this storm will pass someday.

So I hold on

not because it doesn’t hurt, but because

a quiet piece of me still believes

I might.

-Safe Place

My room became my whole small world

a place where curtains stay half-drawn,

where daylight slips quietly through

the cracks but never fully reaches me.

A place where time blurs together

morning into afternoon, afternoon into night,

night into another restless morning

that asks more of me than I feel able to give.

There is comfort here,

but not the kind that heals

only the kind that hides.

The kind that wraps around me

like heavy blankets and dim light,

whispering that staying here is easier

than facing everything outside

that feels too loud, too bright,

too exhausting to touch.

My bed knows the shape of my sadness

how I collapse into it

not always because I am tired,

but because I am empty.

Because sometimes depression

makes even sitting up

feel like lifting the weight

of the whole world on my shoulders.

Messages go unanswered.

Plans become excuses.

The people I love slowly drift

to the edge of my silence,

not because I do not care

but because I no longer know

how to be present

when I can barely be present for myself.

The walls have heard everything

the quiet crying, the angry thoughts,

the endless wondering

about why my heart feels so heavy

for reasons I cannot always name.

They have watched me stare at ceilings

for hours,

lost in thoughts that circle endlessly,

fighting battles no one sees

inside a mind that never seems to let me rest.

And the cruelest part

is wanting to want life again

wanting to laugh without forcing it,

to go outside and feel sunlight

as warmth instead of pressure,

to answer the phone, to make plans,

to feel like myself

instead of this hollow version

that only knows how to hide.

My room is where I disappear,

but also where a quiet part of me

still survives

a small voice buried beneath the sadness,

softly saying,

This is not all there is.