The magic I sought Was buried in the places I avoided. Maybe that’s why I lost you Before I ever had you.

Yeah… I think about us— Sometimes. But I get it now: We were never meant to make it to the ending. No epilogue. Just ellipses.

So I gather my truth Before I summon my strength. I needed you When I was breaking. Not when your calendar cleared. Not when it was convenient to care.

Now I see you, Still posting pictures In the shirt I left behind. Still living in the shadows of almost.

But six feet… Six feet is too far beneath you.

I still wish you find a love that mirrors your soul. But don’t forget— You turned me away When I stood six feet from your door, With both hands open, And my heart in a paper bag.

You wrote our future in the sand Just seconds before the wind came. And I stood there, Blue-faced, Watching your deep blue eyes Look everywhere But at me.

You should’ve loved me When I could still love you back. When my hands were still reaching. When my voice still cracked Saying your name.

Forgive me— But your pity parties? They don’t move me anymore.

You should’ve shown up When I was still setting the table. When I carved our initials into tree bark, When I painted a mural of us On that weather-worn bench in the park— Right after our first kiss.

Now it’s all echoes. And six feet? Six feet is too wide a silence.

May you find someone Who meets you in the middle. Not someone who waits Until you’ve vanished To want you.

We wrote our story in sand, And watched the wind Call it fiction.

I stood there, Blue-faced, Heart heavy, As your eyes —cold and infinite— Turned away.

You withheld love When I was full of it. Now that it’s gone, You remember me?

Too late.

No dance on my grave. No second chances. No crocodile tears Over the ashes.

Six feet apart, We mistook distance for destiny.

But truth is— Our love didn’t die.

It never lived.

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.

Hey there, my friend— Don’t you dare give in. In the cracks of defeat Is where hope begins.

Begins with a spark. A flicker. A flame. Flame turns to wildfire When you call your name.

Name your fears. Then burn them to ash. Ashes to beauty— Your strength will outlast.

Last night you fell... But today? You rise. Rise like the sun. Like fire in the skies.

Skies open wide— So stretch out your wings. Wings cut through storms. You were made for big things.

Things get heavy, But you’re tougher than stone. Stone splits in time— But you hold your own.

Own your story. Let the world hear your shout. Shout it loud— This pain won’t count you out.

Out of the darkness, You’ll find your chance. Chance to fight back— Stand tall. Advance.

Advance past fear. Let your joy defy. Defy the shadows That told you to cry.

Cry if you must— But don’t let tears stay. Stay bold, my friend. Fight another day.

Day turns to night, But the stars still burn. Burn bright— And the world will take its turn.

Turn pain to power. Let courage collide. Collide with the limits— And take it in stride.

Stride through fire. Let it sharpen your view. The power’s not out there— The power is you.

They say God don’t walk these streets, but I’ve seen Him — hooded up, hoodie torn, sneakers dirty but spirit clean, blessing the block with broken dreams. These corners know more prayers than the churches do. Concrete prophets preaching with cracked shoes, mamas lighting candles in plastic cups, hoping their sons come home unbruised. Every alley got its own psalm, every bullet its own amen. Some of us baptized in liquor, some in loss, but we all learned to pray through the smoke of what we’ve lost. The streets wrote their gospel in chalk outlines and cigarette ash, and I— I’m just the messenger with a mic, spitting verses from the Book of Broke & Brave. See, pain don’t need translation here. It got its own slang. Hope sells cheap, but everybody’s still hustling for peace. We got preachers in Jordans, saints in hoodies, angels with records, and sinners with wisdom the system can’t study. I seen halos flicker under streetlights, heard psalms in the sirens at midnight. If redemption had a sound, it would be a freestyle with no beat, just a man confessing before the city that raised and scarred him equally. So when I speak, don’t call it rap. Call it scripture rewritten in real time. This is Genesis with graffiti. Revelation with reverb. I’m the disciple of the damned, spitting parables of survival, because even salvation got street names. And when I’m gone, let the echo say — he wasn’t holy, but he was honest. He turned pain into psalms, and gave the streets a voice that sounded like home. (echo) Even sinners can preach if the sermon bleeds truth.

13 Nov 2025 Midnight Pilgrim

When the noise dies, you start to hear the lies you told yourself. You start to taste the echoes you called wisdom. That’s when truth walks in — no spotlight, no applause — just bare feet on the floorboards of your fear. Silence don’t lie; it just waits for you to stop pretending. I used to talk too loud just to drown the sound of my own doubt. Now my peace got a bassline — low, calm, dangerous. It don’t need to shout to sound real. See, truth ain’t loud — it’s patient. It don’t knock, it breaks in. It don’t argue, it reveals. After silence, there’s that small space where honesty breathes — where masks fall like autumn leaves and every line you spit either saves you or exposes you. I don’t rap to impress. I confess in rhythm. Every bar a bloodline, every rhyme a resurrection. The world taught me to rhyme for clout; pain taught me to rhyme for clarity. Now every syllable’s a scar that learned how to speak. So I write like a surgeon — cutting deep, no anesthesia, just truth straight to the vein. The crowd hears poetry; I hear therapy. The beat hears flow; God hears honesty. After silence, there’s truth — and after truth, there’s peace so loud you mistake it for thunder. So when I’m gone, don’t play my songs. Play my pauses. That’s where the sermons hide. (echo) When the beat stops, that’s where God starts speaking.

13 Nov 2025 Midnight Pilgrim

After all the losses, You’d think I’d have learned to let go. But love— It carves itself into you, deep and slow. And when it leaves, it doesn’t just walk away— It shatters. It lingers. Still, I stand in the rubble, calling your name.

So tonight, I speak to the shadows, To the echoes caught between constellations. I let the night cradle me, Where your absence breathes in the cold moonlight. No more tears to stain this earth, No more cries to bring you back. I hold the silence like it’s sacred— Because inside it, you still live.

I’ll paint this grief in the colors you loved, Unfolding passions you never got to see. Your laughter—once a hymn— Still beats in my chest. A song that rises where silence falls, An anthem to the life you left behind. Even in the shadow of this endless night, You remain my light.

“Damn, this hurt has weight— But it’s carving out a strength I didn’t know could take shape.”

You taught me to find the light in the cracks, To hold hope even when the world shuts its eyes. Now you're the voice in the quiet, The pulse in the storm, The fire in my veins when I feel undone. Love’s bittersweet taste still burns— But I won’t let the ache define the road I run.

I’ll build a bridge from broken dreams, Threaded with memory—still glowing, still gleams. Because, damn, this grief is heavy, But it's teaching me how to carry. You’re gone, But you breathe in my bones— In every scar, in every line of the poem.

This is for you— Every tear, every step, Every whisper I send to the stars you now tread.

“Grief doesn’t break me; it remakes me. From shattered dreams, I rise, unshaken.”

I’ll soar beyond clouds where your voice still calls, No longer bound by these gravity walls. Though the sorrow still sings, I’ll walk through its flame— Let the ashes become the roots of your name.

The chains of mourning can’t hold me still. I rise. I climb. I bend this world to my will. This life, this loss, this love is mine— And in every breath, I keep you divine.

So let the stars bear witness when I speak, A voice cracked with sorrow, yet fire in its streak. You’re the reason I find beauty in strife— From your light, I forge A brand new life.

After all the losses, You’d think I’d have learned to let go. But love— It carves itself into you, deep and slow. And when it leaves, it doesn’t just walk away— It shatters. It lingers. Still, I stand in the rubble, calling your name.

So tonight, I speak to the shadows, To the echoes caught between constellations. I let the night cradle me, Where your absence breathes in the cold moonlight. No more tears to stain this earth, No more cries to bring you back. I hold the silence like it’s sacred— Because inside it, you still live.

I’ll paint this grief in the colors you loved, Unfolding passions you never got to see. Your laughter—once a hymn— Still beats in my chest. A song that rises where silence falls, An anthem to the life you left behind. Even in the shadow of this endless night, You remain my light.

“Damn, this hurt has weight— But it’s carving out a strength I didn’t know could take shape.”

You taught me to find the light in the cracks, To hold hope even when the world shuts its eyes. Now you're the voice in the quiet, The pulse in the storm, The fire in my veins when I feel undone. Love’s bittersweet taste still burns— But I won’t let the ache define the road I run.

I’ll build a bridge from broken dreams, Threaded with memory—still glowing, still gleams. Because, damn, this grief is heavy, But it's teaching me how to carry. You’re gone, But you breathe in my bones— In every scar, in every line of the poem.

This is for you— Every tear, every step, Every whisper I send to the stars you now tread.

“Grief doesn’t break me; it remakes me. From shattered dreams, I rise, unshaken.”

I’ll soar beyond clouds where your voice still calls, No longer bound by these gravity walls. Though the sorrow still sings, I’ll walk through its flame— Let the ashes become the roots of your name.

The chains of mourning can’t hold me still. I rise. I climb. I bend this world to my will. This life, this loss, this love is mine— And in every breath, I keep you divine.

So let the stars bear witness when I speak, A voice cracked with sorrow, yet fire in its streak. You’re the reason I find beauty in strife— From your light, I forge A brand new life.