Journal of a Nobody

Not so lively, on occasion dark, you anchor yourself in the quiet. A mind often lost in its own labyrinth, yet true spoken always— your voice an unbending compass.

Behind eyes crease-lined and smile-folded, grief and gratitude sit at the same table. Your heart is a fragile thing, warmed by sunrises you had to fight to see, rebuilding its heat piece by piece.

You offer tenderness to the freezing nights, not out of strength, but because you know the weight of the cold. Inside, the restless hunting never stops— chasing visions that slip through your fingers like tiny dragonflies circling an open field. An early morning brewing in your chest, sparkling, tentative, and clearing through the mist.

it's my rightful place,

by her side, my hand on hers,

no past, no future