Things I couldn't leave alone.

Especially the quiet ones the world prefers to forget.

The shy, misunderstood, the ordinary in the crowd,

I make them the main character and say their name aloud.

For beneath their silence lives a bright and hidden light,

A gleam within their weary eyes that still dreams through the night.

They're wandering through inner worlds that few will ever see,

Building kingdoms in their minds where they are wild and free.

Perhaps this world has not been kind, perhaps it's looked away,

Ignoring every careful word they struggled hard to say.

The dismissals came too often, disappointment struck too deep,

So now they guard their tender hearts and hide what they must keep.

Yet I catch them by the window, watching clouds drift by,

Still carrying secret wishes to a patient sky.

The hero of the story is often bruised before the fight,

The fiercest roar is born from those who vanished from the light.

I know you're rarely chosen first when people scan a room,

I know you've watched attention pass and leave you in the gloom.

You're not the loudest voice they hear, nor the fairest face they see,

Yet alone at night you dream of who you someday wish to be.

And how do I explain that crowds are dazzled by the gold,

Chasing every shining thing, no matter what they hold?

But all that glitters is not gold, all that sparkles is not true,

Some of the rarest gems are hidden far from view.

I know you keep your gaze cast down to soften every sting,

"If I don't look toward them first, their silence cannot cling."

Oh, my poor child, lift your head and let your spirit roam,

You were never meant to shrink yourself to make the world your home.

The earth is green and generous, the sky is vast and blue,

The wind will dance between your hair as if it came for you.

The birds will sing at morning's break, a sweet and cheerful song,

Reminding you that you belonged here all along.

And dogs will follow at your heels with uncomplicated grace,

Because they see the warmth and light upon your gentle face.

They recognize the gleam inside, the gold beneath the scars,

The same quiet kind of radiance that lives within the stars.

And so do I—that is the reason stories call to me,

I write the souls the world ignores exactly as I see.

I hope one day they stumble here and read these lines anew,

And glimpse themselves through kinder eyes than they are used to.

Or perhaps through the eyes of the One who made them from the start,

(Be sure to check out my upcoming book “I Hear My Own Voice in My Head But She Sounds Nothing Like Me” when it comes out if you like this!!)

As we walk in the park, the night is out,

the street lamps are on, and the sky is burning.

Slowly, you let go of my hand.

I tell you there is food in the fridge—

but you don’t want any. You’re already full

because you’ve been taking care of yourself.

I tell you that’s good.

On the elevator, I press the up button,

so I have decided to go up,

and I’ve decided that there’s no other

final destination and that I’m not reaching

hard enough,

so I take the stairs.

I’ve lived in the same house my entire life.

I never switched schools.

I took the same lunch every day,

with a peanut butter sandwhich

and bag of chips to work.

I’m used to constants.

I’m aware the big bang exists,

and we’re all constantly getting farther

from each other. But stars exist millions of miles

from each other. We still see them

occasionally—like when your post comes up

on social media, I grin

but don’t interact.

Loving your existence

even from a distance

when everything has changed, even

when we aren’t really friends

anymore is easy.

I’m used to constants, but at least

the stars are constant.

They keep me warm

even after everything.

And everything has changed,

but you’re still breathing,

and I’m still happy

The darkness, oh, the darkness. What did I do? What did I do wrong? Honey, your hands hold my face in an ill remember able grip so tight I could hardly imagine such a heavenly sensation. Likewise, your arms wrapped around me in a non-comforting trance that branches from room to room, wall to wall, floor to ceiling, in a knot bent around me hundreds of times that no light, not even from my eyes, would be able to penetrate your transparent revelry. What a gesture, a home, a mentioned moment, long gone from my memory. Tethered from the ceiling, you lift me up, high and high, grueling me closer and closer for the aid of an unknown romance, a horrid wreck that only the vast likeness of the dim side of the moon would want. Truly, you sicken me, my throat tightening, and my eyes watering, my head throbbing, and my ears ringing. A cruelty, a mischievous, cry, to keep me closer. I can’t imagine anything like it, anything better than the feeling of your embracing wrap. I’d let you, and it’d make my growing reverberating ache to leave this unrelenting crawl of lackluster lights scream out, calling for my mother, my father, my voice, to hear, feel, your ravenous hunger for absence.

Finally, you’re satisfied, done with your whines and your rustles, and I sit with you, laying on the twine of absence you lifted me with, waiting for you to calm back down, to the person I know you as, the one I know you to be. I sit in sorrow, joylessly thinking of what a wonderful person you become when you ravage the light. What a wonder, to hope, to think, to breathe, to listen to your heartless being cry out for acceptance, and I cannot oblige. I cannot revolutionize your creation, nor your heart or your echoing screech. My chest ache for your return, your just feelings, your creeping lies, but I cannot let what is not in control decide what decisions I know would be wrong. I lash at my own body, leaving a mark that will never be forgotten, a kindling flame of an evermore forgetful life. What I’d give to be let go in this moment, to be dropped and risen from this horrific scene of a party that never wanted me, that never cared for me at all. The boastful creation of a long forgotten pain flashes back into my memories, removing one by one the only thing I treasured more than what they held. My brain cried, reviving the remorseless actions I’d so desperately made myself forget, wrecking my wandered mind into nothing but a static filled skull. I thought, Why? Why? Why? But not one person would listen.

All zero-hundred people who read this are slacking; nobody suggested anything so I'll have to do that brainstorming now.

So it's a guy in this massive super structure. It's his world, it's all he and anyone else have every known. People have explored for thousands of years, travelling across this structure, climbing higher and higher levels, finding passages that lead to new areas, and some wonder what—if anything—is beyond the Roof? The usual answer is simply: more Roof.

There's also alien-type people, strange creatures, sci-fi gadgets, and cool stuff like that. The main idea was that it was supposed to follow this guy named Gon as he travels from society to society, meeting new people and trying to learn what others know about the world they inhabit, slowly unravelling mysteries about the ancient past and the creators of this place.

He has me cornered at the end of the couch. His eyes mean business and I disagree. We are not alone anymore. Your ghost surfaces without apologies. I am not ready to allow anyone else to step into your light. This is the exact setup from that winter night when life finally spun on a coin with no return. This was your moment and still is, by the looks of it. Unexpectedly, he moves towards me…

Some nights I still catch myself waiting for the version of me that finally “has it together.”

You know the one. A calm, decisive, never second-guessing person. The one who walks into rooms like they belong there. I keep thinking if I just read one more book, journal one more page, or sit in enough silence, that person will show up.

But lately I’ve started wondering if that version doesn’t exist. Maybe the whole point is learning to show up anyway, be that messy, uncertain, heart still racing person and still be kind. Still be curious. Still choose to love even when it feels dangerous, even when my body wants to fight.

The people who move me most aren’t the ones who arrived. They’re the ones still walking, still becoming, still gentle with their own stumbling.

In response to Ragtagdailyprompt RDP Wednesday: Convivial https://wp.me/p9YcOU-6uz I have a confession. Until recently, if someone had asked me what convivial meant, I would have smiled confidently, nodded like an intellectual, and then quietly changed the subject to pizza. It sounded important. It sounded expensive. It sounded like the kind of word people casually drop while sipping coffee…

10 am 21/3/26

"One dark roast, please." David asked, standing upright on his own two legs.

"Just a dark roast? Like, nothing else?" The waitress responded with a puzzled look on her face.

"Um," David pauses to take another look at the menu.

"No, I'm pretty sure that's all I want, thanks." He blew out.

"Really? How can you have JUST a dark roast so casually?" A curious spark ran across her deep hazel eyes.

"It’s...an acquired taste, I guess," he said, attempting to sound casual.

She chuckled lightly, leaving a warm smile on her face.

"Alright David, I'll be with you in a second." She turns away.

"...Oh, right yeah, okay." David spoke with a noticeably flat tone.

She pauses. Suddenly leaning over the counter, lowering her voice into a whisper,

"Did you get in a crash or something? You seem to... barely get your words out" her eyes never leaving his.

David hesitated, breaking the eye contact

"Actually..." 

She jolts back her voice softening while letting out a light chuckle

"Don’t worry David, I'm just joshing ya, I think you speak wonderfully fine. Even if you did get in a crash of sorts." she gave him a cheerful wink.

David stutters from her words. His body relaxes as he feels more at ease

"Well thanks... I think you look wonderful today"

She blushes. A flush of red brushed across her cheeks.

"Let me get you that coffee, David." she turns around, hiding her cheeks.

"You’ll have it in a few."

"Thank you, miss"

David gives her a warm smile back as she looks over her shoulder. He quickly turns, retreating to a table. His eyes admire her at every move, breaking her down in his mind. Her smooth, sun-kissed skin, her thick, short dark brown hair, her angelic, soft hazel eyes. Her smile lines, her rosy cheeks, despite her best attempt to hide them.

"Wow...she’s... perfect in every single way," he whispered softly to himself. The world slowed down as she effortlessly kept all his attention.

David felt his heart slowly drift off into another world. She remained animated through the world's sudden stillness. Unbound to reality. Only she moved. Only she mattered in his world.

"David?" Her soft voice pulled him back to reality.

He shook his head, massaging his eyes with his thumb and index finger, blinking repeatedly whilst returning. He got up, walking back toward the counter. 

"That will be £2.49, hun."

He took out his card, slotting it into the pay machine. He pressed a couple of numbers, only to see "invalid PIN" on his first and second attempts. David froze, trying to recall the numbers.

The worker slid his drink toward him.

"On the house. Enjoy." Her cheeks rose, shining directly at him.

"Thank you, I will." he gave her a smile as radiant as possible before leaving. Unable to resist the urge to glance back at her through the glass. Unable to take his eyes off an angel.

"She’s everything I ever asked for."

A couple minutes go by seamlessly. He snaps himself out of his daydream, forcing himself to focus on the floor as her walked until he couldn't see her anymore.

His plan worked as he finally got more than 2 feet away from the shop. He distracts himself further, using the map on his phone. It didn't take David long to become confused by the directions given, as it showed a left turn into a street that doesn’t exist. 

"God damned phone, why do I even still use this... I need to upgrade." His frustration starting to bubble up within him.

A ring started to boom out from his phone. He accepted the call.

"Hello?"

"David dear! Are you having trouble making your way here?"

"As a matter of fact," He looked around the empty street.

"Yep, I’m completely lost."

"Oh dear, why didn’t you just say so? Are you on Deering St?"

"Erm, yeah, it’s what the map says."

"My, my, you should know your mum isn’t just an old art piece - I was practically the first GPS for your dad!" She interrupts herself with her own chuckle.

She calmed herself down with a few breaths.

"Oh dearie me, sorry for that, anyway! We’re only four rights away, follow the signs and road names. Be sure to be safe, dear. But please be quick. Your dad and I want you to come back to us as soon as possible, we love seeing you!"

"Thank you, Mum. I’ll be there soon don’t you worry, I promise"

"Bye now!"

I love the way you move.

The way the blood drips down your face?

It really sets the mood.

And if I'm being honest-

I don't mean to be rude-

If you would just put down the gun-