7.21.25

talking turns to silence,

messages trimmed to bone. 

Every glance feels loaded, 

every crowd alone.

if l'm smiling while you're breaking,

am l whole or incomplete?

So now we just linger

two ghosts in the same room,

both too proud to reach out,

both choking on the gloom

If hurting each other 

was all we ever knew..

then what's left of love

when the damage feels true?