waxen dagger
“Strength is often just hidden sorrow.”
I write to soothe the shadows we bear,
the boy in ruins, the man in despair.
Shaped by silence, by nights without answers,
my heart learned to sway with the void’s rhythm.
So I built a bridge with my own strength,
guiding others across the darkness I once called home.
Each outstretched hand I meet, a mirror of my past,
a reflection of a boy I refuse to forget.
I give them all that I have—
hope, light,
a piece of my heart—
But when the lights dim and the world turns quiet,
I am left with the shadows they once cast.
Friendships fading to memories,
promises evaporating with the morning dew.
Still—
I let them go, with a smile they will never question.
Not because I do not care, but because I care too much.
To ask for their return would be to show my cracks,
and I fear they would see me as weak, as sorry, as a wreck.
Instead, I carry the ache alone,
longing for someone who will stay,
not because they need me,
but because they choose me,
scars and all.
Someone who sees the quiet battles I fight,
the quiet longing I hide.
I never speak these wishes,
for I know how heavy they are to bear.
I watch them walk away,
each step they take, a piece of me lost forever.
But even in this solitude, I press forward.
Not out of duty, but because I owe the boy I was.
He needs me to keep going,
to find meaning in the spaces left behind,
to believe that someday,
someone will see me—not as a savior,
but as someone worthy of saving.
And until that day comes,
I will remain the silent guardian, the quiet flame
offering light to those who wander in darkness,
as I light myself to brighten the path.
“I write only because There is a voice within me That will not be still”
robust blade
halcyon citrus
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steady tide