Silence
Midnight Pilgrim
February 6
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A memory’s a snare. I’m trapped in its bind. Time drags its feet... But this pain outruns time. Good morning texts? Cold. Replaced by clipped replies. “Thanks for last night”— No warmth. Just lies. Leaves fall. The streets hum low. Seasons change— But I’m frozen In your shadow. Don’t play me soft. Don’t let your soul cower. Your silence... It devours. He creeps in When your strength’s on the floor. Comforts your fears While I’m begging for more. I’m screaming— “Fight! Don’t let the darkness win!” But you... You sip that poison again. Kissing the sweat Off your melanin glow— I wonder... Is love still here? Or has it gone cold? Reckoning’s knocking. But I don’t answer the door. I’m scared of the truth... And what it has in store. I bottle it up. Pour confessions in a glass. Take a sip. Hope the pain will pass. But whiskey’s a liar. It burns. It deceives. It warms my throat— Then leaves frost in its breeze. Every “you” I write Is me screaming at the sky. Pointing fingers at ghosts— But the guilt circles back to I. This blame? It’s a mirror. It don’t break. It just stares— Reflecting the cracks In my own despair. How do I breathe When our rhythm is torn? I’m half-alive— But my soul’s been worn. We talk... But we circle the drain. This love is a tree That bears no fruit— Only pain. Still— I’m here. Planting seeds In your barren soil. Your desolate orchard Where hope recoils. While you drown in whiskey... I gasp for air. I suffocate in your hurt. But you don’t care. Crystal-clear— You slay me with ease. But I’m the accomplice. I handed you the keys. This love’s a ghost. It haunts my veins. A tender addiction— Entwined with pain. So tell me... Do I let this fire engulf me and burn? Or wait... For the day this leaf might turn? 'Cause I’m alive— But barely so. While you fade into bottles... Drinking slow. Your orchard’s barren. Yet I dig through the ash. Searching for life In memories that clash. Pilgrim of midnight... I tread through pain. Hoping—just hoping— To find us again.
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