9/8/25

had built up walls of silent stone,

then dwelled within, and dwelled alone.

the world beyond growing faint and far,

a memory lost behind a scar.

no knocks, no voices, no echoed calls,

just time thickening on the wall.

my breath, a ghost of who i'd been,

now trapped beneath weathered skin.

mirrors whisper, "no one's there,"

and reflect more and more empty air.

thoughts, once fires that used to burn,

will only flicker now as they yearn.

trying to run from ache, from fear.

things too sharp, things too near.

yet silence breeds a different, deeper pain,

hunger, which i cannot contain.

stillness tries to teach me what i lack.

not peace, but all i never had back.

and now it aches, not with regret,

but something that's even lonelier that.

and so i yearn, but not for what i knew,

i yearn for what never grew.