Grace

that never said its name

and a beginning

that refuses to introduce itself,

she has been walking.

Miles of quiet pavement,

streetlights humming softly

like tired witnesses.

Notebook full of half-poems,

lungs full of cold air,

Her hands remembering

other hands

they shouldn’t miss.

The city sleeps

but her body stays locked

a door someone forgot how to open.

Dreams come violent lately.

Metal flashes.

A lover who was never a lover with unfamiliar eyes.

Wake up before the pain lands.

Leave the room

before it swallows you whole.

4am

Empty streets,

footsteps echoing

like a question.

A walk just to feel something

The wind on her face,

the slow forgiveness of sunrise,

the quiet proof

that she is still here

heart beating