Shifting Slowly

I love you from here—from this quiet stretch of sky between us. From this distance,your wounds don’t reach me,and mine don’t tremble under your gaze. Here, judgment fades like headlights disappearing down a long road.Here, the laughter that once curled around my namefalls short. You see only the light I allow through—a constellation I arrange… — read more

Life is a journey—always shifting, always strange.One minute we are whole,and the nextthere’s suddenly a holewhere something loved once lived. One day we’re planningthe rest of our lives,drawing mapswith steady hands.The nextwe’re jolted awakeby doubts about tomorrow,wondering how fasteverything can change. Panic climbs my spineeach time the phone rings.It was never meantto be like this—not… — read more

They say signs aren’t real.That we invent themto soften the blow. But today I was thinking of you—not gently.Not nostalgically.I was inside it again. Your breath tearing in and out.Your hand groping for Mom’s armlike it was the last railingon a collapsing bridge.That stubborn fire in you—still burningin a body already leaving. We bent close… — read more

She has survived her own death a thousand times.Each one left her thinner. Quieter.Harder to find. Hope once gathered in her —a small, steady light.It imagined a heartbeat beyond her own.It ended in blood.Where a future might have stood,there was absence. She chose blood over creed.The decision cost her an audience.She stood alone afterward,ankle-deep in… — read more

Just put your sweater on, Pa.You left napkins in the left pocket —unused, folded like little promises. Maybe you tucked them therebecause you knew the kind of nights ahead,the quiet I couldn’t name.I’ll keep them safe. Your scent still clings to the collar;I press it to my face and the room fills with you.God, I… — read more

People disappoint. You disappoint. Humanity disappoints— a long chain of cracked promises passed hand to hand like a cursed heirloom. Perfection— we worship it, chase it, beg it to save us, but it slips through our fingers every time, lost somewhere between a lie and a bite, between what we want and what we settle… — read more

Grief is intrusive—it rises whenever it wants,uninvited. A sudden memory,eyes filling fast,a deep missing,a lonelinessthat lands like a shock. How?Again and again—How?Just… how? We were just laughing.Just planning our weekend.You just—and we just—and thenjust…just… Every single justturns into a reason,a reminder,a wound. Because you were dying,and we just thought we had time.We just thought you… — read more