Being alone, day after day,
has seeped into my skin—
a quiet hunger that learned my name
and consumed me slowly.
It devoured what I carried,
even the warmth we once shared,
until love itself felt like a memory
left out in the cold.
Now everything is tinted blue,
as if the sky moved inside my chest.
I long for a beginning again—
a soft, trembling restart—
to offer myself a second chance
without knowing where the first step lies.
Some days I doubt I have the strength.
Some days I doubt there is a me left to try.
This solitude fractured me,
wore me thin,
until I forgot how love once felt
when it was alive in my hands.
All that remains is this hollow quiet—
an emptiness that echoes,
waiting to be filled
with something real,
something warm,
something new.
YOU ARE READING
Every part of me
PoesiaThis book took years to begin. Not because I lacked words, but because I lacked the courage to open my heart. To my readers- this is my soul, laid bare. Every page holds a piece of me: my vulnerability, my joy, the moments I loved deeply, and the gr...
