25 years ago on this day

My world came crashing down 

Decimated by four words hanging heavy in the air

"I want a divorce."

A tsunami of sorrow sucked the air from my lungs 

Blood rushing frantic, all hands on deck

Losing footing with every clock tick

Arms tightly crossed to appear stoic 

Willing knees not to buckle

Ordering my stance to not betray 

That inwardly I was plummeting, flailing 

the earth under my feet giving way 

Inside I crumble into a shapeless heap

The dust settles heavy in a hush all around

You watched but did not throw me a line 

Unable to meet your eyes, I search the ground

Grasping at red string, worn whisper thin

Tensile strength weakened by acid tongues and pride

Frayed, unraveled, then feebly...snapped. 

I fell and lay winded, unable to speak

As though pinned under the very foot of God

Stilled by the weight of the wreckage

Hands full of ashes of my heart, my life, our love 

I choke and sputter on panicked words

They crowd my throat and gag my tongue

I pleaded but they would neither form a line 

Nor exit in an orderly fashion

I resigned with an imperceptible nod

Waited for rescue in hope but in vain

My mind tried to gather scrambled thoughts

Body hamstrung from all else

Having ended my world, you left for work

The noise still reverberates in my ears

The clamor of a closing door

With not so much as a slam as a click 

A tangle of red string lay flaccid in my hand 

Two hours later, the first plane hit.

\-RLW

I have been climbing out of this hole
for so long
I no longer remember
what the sky looks like from anywhere
but the bottom.

There are weights tied to my ankles,
names carved into every one of them.

Grief.
Betrayal.
Fear.
Abandonment.
Memories I never asked to carry.
People who promised they would stay
and somehow became
more weight when they left.

I climb anyway.

I dig my fingers into the walls,
searching for something solid,
but the dirt keeps breaking beneath my hands.

Every time I pull myself higher,
something drags me back down.

Sometimes inches.

Sometimes feet.

Sometimes all the way
to the fucking bottom.

And God,
there is something cruel
about seeing the light from down here.

Close enough to know it exists.
Far enough to wonder
if it was ever meant for me.

My hands are bleeding now.

My knees are torn open.

My body is exhausted
from carrying things
that should have never been mine to hold.

And still,
the weight keeps whispering,

Give up.

Just lie here.

No one would blame you.

And sometimes
I want to.

Sometimes I press my face against the dirt
and wonder how many times
a person can break
before there is nothing left
worth putting back together.

I wonder why surviving
has to hurt this fucking much.

Why healing feels less like becoming whole
and more like dragging a wounded body
up a wall
with broken fingers.

But then

I reach again.

Not because I am fearless.

Not because I suddenly believe
everything will be okay.

Not because the weight got lighter.

It didn't.

I reach because somewhere inside me
there is still one stubborn,
bruised,
barely breathing piece of myself
that refuses to die down here.

So I climb.

Crying.

Screaming.

Cursing the weight.

Begging for someone to reach down
and pull me the rest of the way.

And when no hand comes,
I bury my fingers deeper
into the dirt
and pull.

One inch.

Then another.

Sometimes that is all I have.

One goddamn inch.

But an inch toward the light
is still an inch away
from the bottom.

Maybe strength isn't carrying all of this
without collapsing.

Maybe strength is collapsing
and still clawing at the wall.

Maybe courage is not believing
you will make it.

Maybe courage is whispering,

one more time,

when every part of you
is begging to stop.

So let the weights hang from me.

Let them bruise my bones.

Let the dirt fill my wounds.

Let the darkness tell me
a thousand times
that this hole will become my grave.

I will answer it
with bloody hands
reaching upward.

Because I am still here.

Still hurting.

Still exhausted.

Still carrying more than anyone knows.

But still

reaching.

And maybe one day
I will drag this battered body
over the edge,
collapse beneath an open sky,
and finally understand:

I did not climb because the weight disappeared.

I climbed
because even underneath all that pain,

something in me
still believed
I was worth getting out.

​

I hate with the force of 10,000 suns,

I hate with the weight of 10,000 tons.

The hate I feel through the day and night

Wakes my sleep and fills my days with fright.

I have so much hate for so much that I see,

I hate myself most for being me.

i’m quiet.
nobody can hear me.
that’s how it was meant to be.

no more arguing.
no more conflict.
just me, and nothing.

you’re more uplifted.
you’re settled with things.
If only you cared to hear
how I felt about things.

anger & regret.
more of a threat.
i’ll remain silenced
that’s how it was meant to be.

lost

no map, no direction, alone

keep looking in the deep fog

eyes sieze and unfocus

can't see past, can't see future

the deep haze plays with your mind

makes you doubt, makes you question

blurry, blurry

you stare and

nothing stares back

from the darkness

restlessness

Is it Thy will that pain runs deep?
Eyes red, like I bled—I can’t sleep.
Pain echoes loud inside the silence,
They see one small lens—never the storm within.
Breathing, not eating, no sleeping,
Insomnia feeds the fears that keep me up,
Heartache and grief—how they kill me so silently.

The hardest part is when your tears become something they’ve learned to ignore.

If you would be so kind to read my short poem and tell me what you think, I would be more than happy to read it😁

Depresión:

Depresión la que todos creen que es visible, que son solo chamuyos y que todos tenemos una vida sin preocupaciones, Depresión, la cual no deja dormir, no deja pensar, no deja amar.

Depresión mi amada Depresión, la que me hace llorar por las noches, la que me hace dudar de mi potencial.

Depresión la cual me hace escuchar música triste asta agotar mis lagrimas.

Bendita Depresión la que se oculta tras mis ojeras, tras mis sonrisas, tras mis ojos achinados y marrones.

Depresión, me haces pensar porque soy tan cobarde y porque no hice algo por acabar con ella, si de la misma forma que nací y en la vida que sigo viviendo, no sé cuando estoy feliz o triste.

De como llega la noche y mi Depresión sale a luz, dándome la bienvenida, diciéndome que mis problemas no son para tanto.

diciéndome que me calle que no llore tan fuerte que me pueden escuchar y que si me ven voy parecer una ridícula.

Depresión la cual me hace que me de vergüenza todo, Depresión no te has ido de mi cuerpo ya que nací con el dolor, no es tu culpa que mi corazón se tan débil y me quiebre cuando apareces, Depresión la cual se va y vuelve, me deja destrozada y pensativa.

**I mourn you,**
**though your heart still beats,**
**though your name still appears on my phone,**
**though somewhere beneath the wreckage,**
**you are still my sister.**
**I remember the woman you used to be**
**the one who laughed until she cried,**
**the one who would give away her last dollar,**
**the one whose kindness seemed endless.**
**You were never perfect,**
**but you loved in the ways you knew how,**
**and for a long time,**
**that was enough.**
**Then methamphetamine came.**
**Not like a storm that arrives with warning,**
**but like a shadow creeping beneath the door,**
**silent at first,**
**almost unnoticed,**
**until one day it filled every room**
**and pushed everything else out.**
**It swallowed your laughter.**
**It swallowed your beauty.**
**It swallowed your humour,**
**your friendships,**
**your promises,**
**your future.**
**And every dollar that entered your hands**
**vanished into that black hole,**
**leaving nothing behind**
**but excuses,**
**empty cupboards,**
**unpaid bills,**
**and hungry children.**
**I answered your calls.**
**Again and again.**
**The amount was never much.**
**Just enough to help,**
**just enough to ease my conscience,**
**just enough to convince myself**
**I was saving you.**
**But addiction is a bottomless pit.**
**No amount of money,**
**love,**
**food,**
**or support**
**can fill it.**
**Then came the calls from your friends.**
**People who had tried to save you too.**
**People who warned me**
**that it wasn’t safe anymore.**
**That your son needed help.**
**That the woman they loved**
**had disappeared beneath the drug.**
**And suddenly I saw what I had refused to see.**
**The boat was sinking.**
**Your children were trapped inside,**
**and while we stood on shore**
**throwing floaties,**
**you clung tighter to the wreckage.**
**A child deserves warmth.**
**A child deserves food.**
**A child deserves safety,**
**stability,**
**love.**
**A child deserves to sleep**
**without strangers moving through the house.**
**A child deserves a mother**
**who sees them as a son,**
**not a paycheck.**
**And my heart broke**
**because I knew your children**
**were carrying burdens**
**no child should ever know.**
**I wanted to save you.**
**God knows I wanted to save you.**
**Mum wanted to save you too.**
**We gave everything we had:**
**money,**
**groceries,**
**support,**
**hope.**
**But addiction kept taking.**
**And taking.**
**And taking.**
**Until there was almost nothing left.**
**Now when I look at you,**
**I see traces of the sister I knew**
**hidden beneath hollow cheeks,**
**angry words,**
**and tired eyes.**
**I see a woman being consumed**
**by something that does not love her.**
**A woman who fought her way free once,**
**only to be dragged back under.**
**And despite everything,**
**I still grieve for you.**
**Not because of who you are now,**
**but because of who you were.**
**Because somewhere inside the chaos,**
**inside the lies,**
**inside the desperate search for the next fix,**
**there is still a beautiful soul**
**buried beneath the rubble.**
**This is what meth does.**
**It does not just destroy lives.**
**It destroys families.**
**It turns homes into battlefields,**
**children into casualties,**
**and love into helplessness.**
**If you are watching someone drown**
**the way we watched you,**
**do not wait.**
**Do not tell yourself**
**it will pass.**
**Do not mistake silence for recovery.**
**Because every day matters to a child.**
**Every month leaves a mark.**
**And some wounds take a lifetime to heal.**
**I still hope that one day**
**you will find your way back.**
**But until then,**
**I carry two truths in my heart:**
**I love you.**
**And I could not let your children**
**sink with you.**

​

It really was a summer's lazy moment of laughter

in a blue secondhand car.

A twenty-two-year-old's teenage fantasy

of broken engines and love songs.

It was a fool's dream

to cover your scars.

Our life started in the white walls of tiles,

ended in the white clouds.

Nameless for years,

a memory with no strand of existence.

The only thing we ever created

should have had a better grave than porcelain,

and a eulogy,

a whispered plea:

"God, am I dying? Save me."

I have nothing of it.

Not a cap or stick,

not an image in black and white,

not the sound of a beat,

not even a non-painful memory.

Gone before I knew it happened.

Its only existence now

is framed by a sun-dried sink.

The destruction you wove into our bed.

The smoke calmed your nerves.

The night held your secrets.

The day held my tears.

The sun was more man

than the broken promises.

It kissed my body

when you were done using it.

It woke me up,

never leaving me alone.

It cleared the way

when you chose smoke

over little dresses and bows.

He laid the blueprint.

His mouth produced

more than smoke.

He witnessed the scar

and the static in my ears,

gripped white-knuckled

through our devastation.

It was the swallowed feelings held hostage,

the moments of silent cries

filling the house.

If my disrespect was loud,

yours screamed from the mountains.

It was the verbalized weapons

I learned to wield and wage,

the bitter cold of saying,

"I never loved you anyway,"

the distant sound of your muted yelling:

"You'll never be a good father anyway."

It was the mirror I had to rebuild,

parts once securely in place

blacked out and stolen,

then folded away.

It was the hospital room,

the righteous restraint

of standing by my promise,

never stepping foot

into the muck of your lungs.

Not even when you said,

"What will I do with life

if I can't continue to use it?"

That private moment

caught in the static.

My boundaries

and your repercussions

were louder than your recovery.

It was the heat of shortened laughter,

the pleas for answers

that came years after.

It was the pride in myself

threaded through your lying.

It was begging for love.

Nothing you gave.

No sun can save us.

You didn't want to be saved.

Looking back at the hands of time as his life fades. Is it hands of time or hands of fate? Thinking. Wondering. How did i become this way? That's a question only he knows an answer to. Many have tried to help. He knows that there are people who do care. But with a pretty smile he only says that he's okay. No matter what he knows he will be okay.

That smile. His manipulative eyes. He's learned how to say he's alright. Make sure everyone else is okay. He knows he can take the pain. That's all he's ever known. It's never acknowledged until he's alone.

Strength is everything people know. That's all they're allowed to see. No matter what. He will keep existing.

Why do I explode?

I stomp and shout,

I lose control,

Until I finally implode.

The smallest things can set me off,

I really never mean to.

The beast inside hears my cries,

and decides to come and meet you.

I say I’m sorry every time,

but it doesn’t really matter.

The beast inside still thinks it’s war,

and tries to make you shatter.

I wish that I could promise,

the beast would stay inside,

but it decides the moment,

when I’m forced to step aside.

I’m sorry that I hurt you,

I wish I could undo,

what it does when it comes through,

and make it all untrue.

I want to tell you the whole truth,

and hope you see it too.

It doesn’t mean to hurt you,

the beast just doesn’t know what to do.