A place for lovers, tightly held within
A vow forever to travel in time
A Soul Token given and kept
A power of grace, wound between hearts
A kiss that started it all and pronounced eternity
A feeling that will not be defined by words
A definition of calm tornadoes
An island that surrounds two hearts
An excitement of new adventures
St Glam forever and always
Please—
do not hand them to me.
Let me reach for them
when I am ready.
Do not give up on me yet.
I am still here.
I will learn the shape of what broke.
I will take my time
sorting what can be kept,
what must be reimagined.
Do not sweep them away.
Do not hide them.
Do not decide their fate for me.
The mess is mine.
I own every fragment before me.
There is strength in these hands—
enough to build
from what remains.
And if time runs thin,
if the clock dares to stop,
I will still do this—
making something truer,
something stronger,
from the pieces
on the ground.
moving backward.
The door is open,
yet I cannot see it.
The weight inside my mind
begins to spin me.
Please.
My sight blurs,
turning inward.
The ground beneath me
feels uneven, untrustworthy.
The thickness of my thoughts
brings me to a halt.
Please.
My hearing is clouded,
filtered away from truth.
The path stretches long,
winding endlessly around doubt.
Silence cries out
in uncomprehension.
Please.
I heard what I didn’t want to hear, while ignoring what I already knew.
There has always been peace inside me— a pure nothing stronger than something.
Strip it all away. Everything you own. Every thought you cling to.
Stand there— with nothing— and listen.
No voices crowding the mind. No questions stacked on questions. No emotion. No ego.
Just silence.
Sit quietly and wait for the next thought to arrive. Really listen. Do not answer it. Do not push it away.
Anything?
Imagine the moment you simply get it. All of it. Without effort. Without explanation.
Your greatest wow is still waiting.
where every street still knows her name, she stands with a bottle of water twisting the cap as the past flickers below.
The town that raised her. The streets that shaped her. The life she once fit into.
She stills herself, as if motion alone might decide everything.
The sky deepens. Evening holds its breath.
For a moment, she lets go of every story she’s carried— every expectation, every weight mistaken for destiny.
Darkness comes, not as an ending, but as a pause.
A surrender to not knowing.
Is this the beginning,
or the end—
or the quiet space
where choosing finally becomes possible?
