Chapter 1-my bed holds the secrets
My bed holds the secrets
that daylight was never meant to find.
Last night,
the darkness learned my name again.
I woke
not because the world was loud,
but because my heart
had remembered something
my mind had begged it to forget.
The room did not ask questions.
It simply watched
as I folded into myself
like a letter
no one was ever meant to read.
My pillow drank
every word my mouth refused to speak.
The sheets wrapped around me
like old ghosts
trying to convince me
that loneliness was the only thing
that had never lied.
Outside,
the moon kept its distance.
Inside,
time forgot how to move.
I counted the cracks in the ceiling
the way broken people
count the reasons
to survive until morning.
When dawn finally arrived,
it found an empty face
wearing yesterday’s smile.
No one noticed.
No one ever does.
Because grief is an artist.
It paints perfect disguises
before the world wakes up.
So tonight,
I’ll return
to the only witness
that has never betrayed me.
My bed.
The keeper of my tears.
The guardian
of my sleepless confessions.
Lay your hand
where I used to sleep…
You won’t find answers.
Only the warmth
of battles
no one ever saw.
Because my bed
still holds the secrets…
and daylight
has never been brave enough
to hear them.
