I Wrote This Instead of Screaming

  • Good Bones

    Before you get comfortable, let me give you the tour,This isn’t a heart that you’ve seen before.There are voices in the wall, a chill in the hall,and a portrait I’ve turned to face the wall.The last one who stayed tried to paint the walls white,but the shadows I live with bled through in the night.

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  • Mirror of Lies

    You took my spark, called it divine.You forged the stars to spell my name.But your hands were smoke, your smile a show. you wore my warmth like stolen glow. I thought love could patch the breaks,but you just twisted till I ached. Mirror of lies, mirror of blame,I see your face, but it’s not the

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  • Prepare for War

    You walk in soft, and I brace for the blow.You’re not him, but my body don’t know.I laugh too loud, then I shut down fast.Scared you’ll leave if I don’t make it last.You reach for me like it’s no big deal,and I flinch like love’s not supposed to heal. Your steady hands and quiet eyes.You

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  • Between Stations

    I drove past the county line,where the signal bled to static snow. In the night humming with haunted songs,I chased a voice I used to know. Each station faltered with echoes, half a hymn, half borrowed breath.I spun the dial for one clear word,to pull a signal from the death.I’m not lost, I’m just between

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  • The Right to Remain Cruel

    They wrap their hate in holy guise,call it mercy as innocence dies.Quote scripture like a butcher’s blade,and call the mutilation aid.They say it’s choice, they say it’s care,while breaking children mid-prayer.Freedom, they grin, with teeth too white,but freedom dies beneath their light.They call it speech, not damage, not sin.But if your words can cage a

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  • Grid Lines

    I spread my life across the table,  maps I never understood.  The paper hums with silent echoes,  coastlines fading where I stood.  The rivers never flowed quite right,  the towns I cherished disappeared,just pressure-point fossils  of the world I once steered.  And I don’t know when the ink ran dry,  but I’ve been tracing ghosts

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  • Shutdown Season

    The news keeps loading incessantly,even when I try to disconnect.Deadlines, protests, power plays—I hold them like shifting sandand wonder why my hands feel heavy.They say democracy is delicate,and so am I.My empathy’s overdrawn again,each headline a debt I can’t repay.I used to rage fiercely.Now I refresh quietly.Now I fold laundrywith the volume mutedand call that

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  • Almost Friends

    We were almost something – we were almost friends.

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  • Still I Wake Up

    I know the headlines by heart—doom in bold, blood in italics.The oceans are rising,the rights are receding,and the scroll is endless.They say it’s selfishto want a quiet lifewhile the world is burning.But I’m done performing grief,done screaming my lungs rawfor a system riggedbefore I could read.Tired of giving namesto every kind of broken.But still, I

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  • Roses for the Grave

    Flowers on the floor, sequins in the stream. They sell the drowning girl as everybody’s dream.The velvet curtains draw, tragedy rehearsed. Pretty when she’s silent, perfect when it hurts. Turn the tragedy to treasure.Make my breakdown glitter gold.Clap for beauty in the wreckage. Watch me shatter, strike a pose. Curtains fall in velvet, cameras catch

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