#illuminar

friend, do you not remember

we’re faceless martyrs of this generation, aren’t we? us, with our bruised wrists and these damned scarred minds. and we’re still trying, aren’t we? one hand paddling to stay afloat, the other around our necks, clasped too tight and we’re still hoping to come out of this alive, aren’t we? even when the darkness whispers otherwise. and we won’t be remembered in books of History, would we? no, not us. not the fools who became their own enemies. but we don’t really care, do we? not when wars rage in our heads and we see everything in bloodshed not when the world is too big a place and we’re too busy trying to save ourselves and not when we’ve seen the universes beheld in One to bother ourselves with everybody else.

i. i wish you heard how loud the silence swell, how big it beckoned // somewhere somehow i stumbled onto sadness // all big eyed and eerie // with half a heart in his hand and a promise stuck in his throat // and my eyes never opened the same.

look: the petals i tore wishing for you. look, how they’re brittle and black. the holy say nothing good comes out of destruction, i’m hoping you and i are an exception.

i was everything dark in the world- handful of cigarettes, cheeks mascara stained, cuts and blood and panic attacks in hot showers at 5 am. you were light itself. bold and unbending and everything i craved. i spent an eternity begging you on every falling star, then i finally stumbled onto you and i called out your name and you turned your face and you blinded me till i fade.

and you know the worst part of it is how how easy it is to blend in. how simple it is to hide the what-if-i-stopped-existing in your eyes without you even trying. and that’s what breaks you, isnt it? because you don’t want them to know, you don’t even know what you’d do if they found out. but this is so much worse. because you’re a cluster of chaos staring out into the most beautiful place God created and somehow you’re supposed to be unsurprised by the fact that nobody noticed it. everything around you is beauty and your insides contrast that so perfectly and God it sucks being so invisible, so mute even when you’re screaming your lungs hollow. and oh, sweet irony, oh.