I Miss You Every Day. But Today, It Feels Like Everything I Do Is Just Here To Remind Me I Am Living

2 April, 1937 Letters to Véra by Vladimir Nabokov

“One smile can start a friendship. One word can end a fight. One look can save a relationship. One person can change your life.”

— Unknown

My mind holds the weight of

Long sleepless nights.

Each night I

Wait there to be taken,

By the space between the blinks,

Into colours i can only

Hope to think

I could imagine,

Where life is more, and

Where sleep is less

Than a reprieve.

Joy Sullivan, from “These Days People Are Really Selling Me On California”, Instructions for Traveling West

“Until we have seen someone’s darkness, we don’t really know who they are. Until we have forgiven someone’s darkness, we don’t really know what love is.”

— Marianne Williamson

She believes she knows my ache,

she thinks she understands my sorrow,

because once, she too was broken.

My pain is

a slow implosion,

a daily funeral

with no mourners,

a storm I must swallow

so she may walk beneath clear skies.

She remains with another,

while I cradle her chaos in the dark,

I try hold her world steady,

bleeding in silence,

so she never sees the stain.

Quietly tearing at the seams

just to keep her whole.

I laugh when I want to scream.

I smile so she can cry.

I disappear so she can shine.

And each day,

I wake inside a coffin

just to hold her hand.

This doesn't feel like love.

This is a man burning

so she may feel warm,

and never knowing

that the smoke

is me.

-Cyrus K.

I hold my brother on my lap,

I don't tell him to calm,

Or hush his sobs,

He does that himself.

I cannot stop his world ending,

But I am his sister, and as long as I stay,

He has a part of his world still there.

Everything is about perspective. ~beccawise7 💜🖤

I am not trapped.

I am abandoned.

There is no fight left in my limbs

no fire left in my chest

Only the heavy, sinking knowledge

that I have lived too long

in a body that was never mine to keep.

I do not recognize this face

these hands,

this voice that cracks like old pavement

every time I try to speak

I used to scream for help.

Now I don’t even bother whispering

No one listens to a woman

who dug her own grave.