poems

white noise

okay, we're back to my original writings now. enjoy.

it's snowing, 
a quiet kind of violence, 
soft and uncaring, 
filling the spaces i thought i could keep empty. 
every flake is a fragment of something lost, 
something i didn't hold tightly enough. 
they whisper his name, 
but the wind steals it before i can. 

a year has passed, 
and the cold still creeps in like it never left. 
i miss the warmth he carried in his voice, 
the way it thawed me without trying. 
but i was too frozen to notice, 
too wrapped in my own hollow silence 
to feel the weight of him slipping away. 

now, the snow piles up, 
layer upon layer of quiet regret. 
it buries me in the moments i ignored, 
the words i didn't say, 
the love i didn't deserve to receive. 
he was the only one who saw me— 
really saw me— 
but i looked past him, 
as if his light wasn't enough to pull me from the dark. 

the snow doesn't care. 
it keeps falling, 
indifferent to the ache it carries. 
i stand here, 
watching it erase everything i've touched, 
wondering if i could disappear into its cold embrace, 
if i could become as weightless and unfeeling 
as the flakes that settle on my skin. 

i want to tell him i'm sorry. 
i want to tell him i remember the way he stayed 
when the world felt unbearable, 
when i was unbearable. 
but the snow keeps falling, 
and my voice is lost in the white noise. 

i thought time would heal this hollow, 
but it only echoes louder. 
and now i wonder— 
if i had turned to him sooner, 
if i had held on instead of letting go, 
would he have stayed? 
or would i have dragged him down with me? 

the snow doesn't answer. 
it just keeps falling, 
and i am alone, 
watching the world disappear 
one frozen fragment at a time.