Some ghosts wear zippers instead of faces. There was a time I couldn’t go anywhere without you. You were comfort on bad days, silence when words felt too sharp. You made cold mornings softer. Loneliness easier to carry. I didn’t question you. You were just there. Always. We went through everything together—late-night walks, grocery store breakdowns, bus rides where I tried to disappear. You hugged me when no one else knew how. I kept you even when you started falling apart. Even when I knew you were past your prime, unraveling at the edges, losing color in places that used to feel like home. You stopped fitting, but I made excuses. Called it loyalty. Called it love. And still, I held on. Maybe out of memory. Maybe out of guilt. Or maybe because I was afraid of what letting go might say about me. But the truth is— I don’t miss you now. Not really. Not who you’ve become. You're stretched out. Sagging. Smell like an old version of me I’d rather forget. You don't ho...
I dwell in the spaces where shadows meet light, where questions outnumber answers. A seeker of truths buried deep, I write to unearth what lies beneath the surface. In the chaos, I find my voice. In the silence, I find myself.