Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
There is a house with no windows,
built of hours no one counted where the moon keeps its shoes by the door –
always ready, never resting.

Inside, a lantern burns without wick, kept alive by the hands of someone who forgot what their own name feels like when spoken aloud.

They move like wind in a locked room,
making space where none was offered,
balancing skies on their shoulders
like it’s just weather,
not weight.

Their footsteps don’t echo.
They’ve trained even the floorboards not to cry out.

Somewhere, outside the locked hush, another figure stands – also barefoot, also flickering – writing prayers in the form of poems into the dark with nothing but breath and hope
and the ache of recognition.

Not asking to be let in.
Just standing close enough
that the cold doesn’t win.

Because some people don’t knock.
They just stay.
In silence.
Like light does when no one’s watching.
Someday, somewhere, you’ll meet me standing at a crossroads. Not to lead you anywhere, but to walk beside you when you forget where you were going. No maps, no promises. Just presence. Just light that stays.

I’ll stay there – if only for a moment, that forgets how to end…
Heat waves rush my body,
Warming my skin,
Threatening to blind me,
But I just breathe it all in.

Sunglasses on,
Two hands on the wheel,
We’ve got somewhere to go,
And I want something to feel.

She plays in the park,
Discovering more every day,
And I watch her quietly,
Realizing I’m the same way.

I thank the moon
For all the guidance she’s given,
But I want to live now
That the sun has risen.

So I’ll play the monster,
And swing on the swings,
Chase my daughter around
For the joy that it brings.

It feels so good,
Being free in the sun-
I can assess my thoughts later,
Right now, I’m having fun.
Sometimes moments not centered around healing can heal too
  4d Kalliope
RJ
I waited for silence to speak,
for an apology wrapped in truth,
for the echo of her voice to say,
“You were right to love me — I was wrong to leave.”

But closure never comes in words we don’t hear.
It comes in accepting what was never said.
It lives in the quiet decision to
stop bleeding for someone who’s already healed.

I thought closure meant answers.
Now I know
it means no longer needing them.

It’s standing at the edge of a memory
and choosing not to fall in.
It’s hearing her name and
feeling nothing sharp.
Only space.
Only breath.

Closure isn’t the door she locked behind her.
It’s the one I just opened for myself.
No key.
No goodbye.
Just me
and peace
finally making eye contact.
Skin on skin,
Fingers interlocked,
Hair cascades down,
My stomach tied in knots.

Breathing grows heavy,
Anticipation runs high,
When I caress you,
The most rewarding sigh.

Your eyelashes flutter,
Brushing against my cheek,
Eyes closed in surrender,
No words we need to speak.

I trace constellations
Across your beating chest,
Each quiet inhalation
Sings my worries to rest.

You pull me closer still,
Hands settled at my waist,
Time slows to a hush
In this sacred, silent place.

Locked within this embrace,
I fear making the wrong move-
A connection so unexpected,
This beautiful moment with you.
The warmth in this silence,
melting down my freeze
Maybe I should slow down
it's okay to enjoy quiet peace
Those who know

the art of giving

are the ones

who know the

true meaning of living.
  4d Kalliope
ADoolE
It’s no surprise
that kindness feels so sweet
when you’ve been starving ,
even crumbs are a treat.

It’s easy to miss,
but the truth is this:
a little kindness
can feel like bliss
I'll speak your name

until it's not pretty anymore

Until it's so sharp and so distorted

it burns my cheeks like acid.
It's what I'm good at, I'm told.
Next page