Writers 
Pain doesn't knock
It moves in while you're sleeping,
Rearranges the furniture of your chest, and leaves the lights on at 3 am
It speaks in a language you thought you'd have forgotten
The dialect of swallowed words,
Of smiles held together with tape,
Of "I'm fine" said just loud enough to believe it
Of "I'm okay"....when truly nothing is okay!
U want to cry but somehow you don't also want to breakdown......
Missing old memories
The little laughter
The talks...
Every moment was valid
Until somehow silence and darkness creeped in.
A part of you wants to hate and resent completely,
But your heart still wants to hope and believe everything will be fine one day.
Tears rolling down
Anger hot and loud
Grief quiet and heavy as stone
Longing that stretches your ribs thin
And somehow, you carry them all
Not because you're just strong,
But because stopping would mean admitting how much it hurts to keep moving
Yet night by night, the diary fills with less blood and more ink.
Pain learns it canβt stay rent-free forever.
One day you wake up and the lights at 3 a.m. feel less like an interrogation
and more like a chance to finally speak back.
You donβt forget.
You just stop letting the memories hold you hostage.
And thatβs when you realize
youβve been writing your way out.
