It’s quiet here in this space where my ribs hold silence like a fading hymn that no one remembers the words to my hands tremble not from pain but from the weight of being the only one left to hold myself together I smile in mirrors like I’m trying to convince a stranger not to leave but the eyes...they always know.l they always know healing is not a choir, it’s a solo.l one note stretched too long on days that don't know when to end people clap for scars but never sit through the stitching they want the before and after not the screaming middle and so I lay with my wounds like an unwanted love letter opened too late to reply I talk to walls now they don’t judge they echo but they never lie some days I bleed in invisible ink on pages no one will read other days, I forget how to speak the language of the unbroken but still I stay I stitch I breathe and in this aching solitude I become mine again not whole but honest and maybe that’s enough https://whatsapp.com/channel/0029VaWTkG2BPzjdJd9AeV3k ƘԼƳƦƖƇƛԼ ƦӇƳMЄƧ ™