Poetry
1. Open Wound Gospel
I learned how to pray
with my knuckles split
and my faith on the floor.
If God listens,
He does it quietly—
like blood soaking into carpet
no one plans to replace.
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2. Static Between Heartbeats
Love doesn’t scream.
It hums.
Low.
Relentless.
A radio stuck between stations
where your name keeps surfacing
through the noise
like it refuses to die.
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3. Anatomy of a Breakdown
I keep my grief
in my throat
so it sounds like honesty.
I keep my rage
behind my teeth
so it looks like a smile.
Tell me again
how well I’m holding together.
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4. Ink That Won’t Heal
I tried to write you out of my veins,
but every sentence bled back.
Some loves don’t end—
they scar.
They ache when it rains.
They remember you
when you don’t want to.
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5. Confession in Minor Key
I’m not afraid of dying.
I’m afraid of surviving
as someone
who never learned
how to be soft again.
1. Litany of You
I learned your name
the way others learn prayer—
repetition until it hurts,
until my mouth believes
before my mind does.
If loving you is a sin,
I will kneel anyway.
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2. Sacrament
I drank you
like holy water
and wondered why it burned.
Faith was never meant
to be gentle.
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3. Altars Don’t Ask Questions
I laid myself down
and you called it love.
Funny how surrender
always sounds like devotion
when you’re the one standing.
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4. Worship Song for a God Who Bleeds
You are not divine.
You are just convincing.
Still, I bow.
Still, I open my chest
and call it faith.
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5. Tide Logic
You come and go
like you own the moon.
I rearrange my body
around your gravity
and pretend it’s choice.
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6. Want
I don’t want you safely.
I want you
like a storm wants coastline—
with damage,
with intent.
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7. Body Language
Your silence touches me
harder than your hands ever did.
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8. Consumption
I loved you
the way fire loves oxygen—
grateful,
desperate,
destructive.
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9. After the Ritual
Once you leave,
everything feels borrowed—
my breath,
my skin,
the echo of your name.
Nothing holy survives
the aftermath.
———
10. Grief Is a Choir
Every version of me
is singing your absence
in a different key.
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11. What Remains
You didn’t take everything.
Just enough
that I keep reaching
for something
that isn’t there.
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12. Ruins
I live in what we were.
The walls still stand,
but nothing answers back.
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13. Beautiful Things Break Quietly
No one notices
when I unravel—
I do it neatly,
politely,
with a smile.
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14. Elegy for the Person I Was
I was kinder
before I learned
how easy it is
to be chosen
and discarded.
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15. Tender Violence
You didn’t hurt me loudly.
You did it slowly,
like you wanted me
to miss it.
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16. I Learned How to Disappear
I mastered the art
of becoming manageable.
Small enough to keep.
Quiet enough to lose.
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17. Moonblood
The night recognizes me.
It knows what I gave away
without asking.
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18. God-Shaped Silence
I keep speaking into you
like something might answer.
Faith is just grief
with better posture.
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19. Sleepwalking
I loved you
in a language
I don’t remember learning.
But my body still speaks it
fluently.
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20. Offering
Take this heart.
It already knows
how to be empty.
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2.
You taught me devotion
with your hands on my throat—
gentle enough
that I called it love.
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3.
I don’t miss you.
I miss who I was
before you learned
how to unmake me.
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4.
Worship tastes like iron
when you bite your tongue
to keep believing.
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5.
I bled quietly
so you wouldn’t hear
how loud
this ruined me.
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6.
You didn’t save me.
You just stood there
long enough
that I mistook it
for mercy.
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7.
If this is healing,
why do I keep
pulling myself apart
to prove it worked?
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8.
I wear your damage
like scripture—
memorized,
misquoted,
unforgiven.
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9.
I kneel
not because you asked—
but because my body
remembers how.
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10.
You live in me
like a hymn
I can’t stop humming
even when it hurts.
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11.
I gave you everything
and called it faith.
You called it weakness
and took more.
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12.
If love is surrender,
why does it feel
like drowning
with my eyes open?
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13.
I learned how to disappear
without leaving—
still breathing,
still smiling,
still gone.
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14.
I didn’t break all at once.
I cracked politely
until no one noticed
I was hollow.
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15.
You were never the blade.
Just the reason
I stopped flinching.
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16.
I keep choosing pain
that knows my name.
It feels more honest.
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17.
Take me apart
slowly.
Call it communion.
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18.
I confess in silence
because you listen better
when I don’t speak.
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19.
This altar remembers me—
even if you don’t.
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20.
I stay
because leaving
would mean admitting
this cost me everything
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1. Flicker
I see you
in the corner of my chest,
a flicker I can’t kill,
a signal I can’t mute.
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2. Static Heart
My heart is static—
sending out your name
into the void,
waiting for a reply
that never comes.
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3. Haunting
I carry you like a ghost
through empty rooms,
through nights I shouldn’t survive,
through mornings I can’t trust.
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4. Fragile Transmission
Every word I speak
is a wire fraying,
every breath
a crack in the signal
that you are gone.
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5. Pulling Shadows
I reach for you
but only catch
the shadow
you left behind,
and it bites.
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6. Looped
I keep replaying
your voice in my head—
broken, looping,
a song I hate and need
at the same time.
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7. Invisible Threads
You pull me
through thin air,
and I follow
because I forget
how to resist.
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8. White Noise Love
I thought love was loud.
Turns out, it’s static—
endless, haunting,
burning in my ears
like nothing ever belonged to me.
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9. Decay
We rot quietly
inside each other’s memory,
and call it intimacy.
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10. Signal Lost
I scream into the dark
and hear nothing.
But I can’t stop
sending.
Can’t stop
waiting.
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1. Carousel Heart
Life spins like fire,
and I’m dizzy from the burn —
laughing only to hide
the ache under my ribs.
Everyone’s a ghost,
and I’m scared of the silence
when their voices fade.
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2. Shadow in the Room
I still see your shadow
dancing on the peeling walls
like it refuses to leave —
like it swallowed my voice
and never gave it back.
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3. Static Love
Your memory glitches
like a broken display —
every flash burns deeper
than the last,
and I can’t turn it off.
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4. Freak Comfort
I am a freak,
and I learned to be fine with that —
hands buried in myself,
body like an island no one reaches.
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5. Cold Warmth
I wanted to warm you —
but the fire was in me,
and it devoured all the rest.
No warmth left for us —
only the ash between us.
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6. Lonely Symphony
I don’t need rescue;
I’ve cried myself full —
built this hollow cathedral
where loneliness is king,
and every echo is mine.
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7. Name I Forgot
I forgot your name —
but not your silhouette
etched into my ribs,
claw marks I still carry.
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8. No Lighthouse
You were never a beacon —
just flickering signal fire
that left me lost
on a sea without direction.
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9. Burn the Memory
I set your photos on fire,
but the smoke still reads your name
in the sky —
written in the language of pain.
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10. Comfortable Alone
I learned to breathe alone —
taught these lungs to taste
the dust of old grief
and call it survival.
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