Category: Poetry

Whispers in the Smoke

Things as bright as day
Started turning gray
There’s worry in the air
I look up to the sky and stare
The gold of the sun stolen away

Darkness floods around the space
Twisting, swirling, trails of smoke
Curves and bends with subtle grace
I’m drawn towards its beauty
It stretches out towards me
As wispy claws curl and choke

It’s everywhere but no one sees
I breathe in the smoke unwillingly
It floods my body, clouds my brain
Whispering words that cause me pain

It wants to turn me dark
It knows I have the spark
That can burn the hot flame
Because people are to blame

It was the reason I was found
I got beaten to the ground
My silent screams made a sound
A host to the haze, it has me bound

Eternal smoke burns my throat
With every inhale of the drawn coat
My heart crumbles into ash
As I surrender to its whipping lash

The clouds hover to reveal the enemies
It shows me a world covered in fog
No sense of reason as I walk in the smog
The last string of hope breaks with me

More whispers of a dreadful world
I’m slipping into a blurred daze
I’m spinning into a catastrophic craze
I watch as the smoke dances and swirls

I think about preparing to fight
I cannot live this way forever
I cannot bury my soul in surrender
I must work the spark and force ignite

Then I remembered
You can’t beat smoke with a flame
It will not cease or render
I need a new way to battle and tame

Perhaps I need coldness
Perhaps I need to brew a storm
The type of storm that is opposite
The storm that will bring the rain
The storm that will bring the breeze
The storm that will bring the clean air

I work against what I’ve known
My softness needs to harden
My sweetness needs to toughen
My weakness needs to strengthen
My recentness needs to cool down

I dig deep to restructure my thoughts
I dig deep to rebuild from scratch
I dig deep to find new meaning
I dig deep to reclaim myself

I push through my drawbacks
I push through the uncomfortable
I push through the painful unease
I push harder for my personal gain

Then things started changing
I evolved into layers of hard slate
I evolved into tough unbreakable steel
I evolved into strong unshakable stone

I feel the rain fall down my cheek
The storm welcomes me from sorrow
I’m filling in the areas that were left hollow
Crawling blind to reach the peak

I use my rain to smother the coals
I remove its power of burning souls

I push the smoke with my roaring winds
So powerful the trees sway with rage
A twister forms sending its own message
Of what you put out comes back times two

The haze is trapped unable to escape
It’s in a dizzying frenzy and becoming scared
When it’s time I release it
And it vanishes through the forest

It knew I had the potential for greatness
But it was not prepared for my battle
I was supposed to be its prodigy
Not the warrior battling with fury

To ensure I’ve won the fight
I summon the cold white snow
To place its calming blanket
Over everything in sight

I sit down on the snowflake quilt
I inhale my new strength and power
And exhale the anger and fury
I inhale taking from what I’ve learned
And exhale releasing old parts of me

I open my eyes and look around where I sit
I’m no longer on the chilly quilt
I’m sitting on my bedroom floor
Everything looks so different
The world is not the same

And when I step outside to look at the sky
I see the brightness of day
And the sun orangey halo warms the air
It welcomes me with kisses on my cheeks

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Under The Ice

First comes the frost
when the threat draws near,
a feeling of being lost
as icy feathers appear.

The cold of that bitter chill
numbs and holds me still,
while a fog blurs every thought.

The weight of the ice sheet
forms its unwanted shield;
I’m stunned — I cannot beat
a false protection that leaves me unhealed.

I am frozen to my seat,
unable to move,
a statue of my defeat —
impossible to prove.

No one can see this battle,
no one could ever tell;
I’m silent in the struggle,
locked inside my shell.

My breathing turns shallow,
my mind goes blank,
my insides frozen hollow;
beneath the blanket, I sank.

My heart starts to race
with an icy fear
that I will have to face
being trapped, frozen here.

Panic surges through me —
there is no way to show,
for my screams are buried
deep in the drifting snow.

The frozen version of me
offers no sign, no clue
of what’s breaking inside
beneath these icy hues.

When the threat finally leaves
and the ice starts to thaw,
my mind begins to grieve
its hold so raw.

As the cracks start to spread,
its grip begins to lift;
slowly it draws back —
I feel the faintest shift.

Little by little the layers shed;
the first to rise is my head.

Next comes my breath —
long forgotten, yet near;
slowly it returns,
but the fear does not disappear.

I look around the room,
trying to understand;
shame floods through me
as I try to stand.

Shaky, confused,
and still in the dark,
I carry the quiet fear
of the frost-bitten mark.

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Falling in Pieces

When it started falling,
It left a trail of where I’d been.

No one said a word.
Maybe it was nothing.

But day after day,
It kept falling.

Too much.
Too fast.

There was no denying it,
Only proof.

Something was wrong.
I must be sick.

But I was young.
I was strong.
I felt fine.

It felt like a curse from above.
Telling me I did something wrong.
Telling me I deserved it.
Telling me I didn’t belong.

My hair isn’t mine anymore.
It belongs to someone else.

I started to fear
the touch of another person.

I miss the feeling
of fingers combing through my hair,
followed by a kiss,
and the comfort I used to know.

I miss the wind
How it once felt free.

I miss the water
How it once brought me calm.

I miss when my hair
didn’t feel like a lie.

I hate what’s become of me.
I hate this cage.

I hate the way I shrink inside.
Like I take up too much space.
Like I’m too much and never enough
All at the same time.

I grow envious
of the girl with someone
who twirls her hair.

Who tells her it’s beautiful,
how soft it feels,
how it’s part of her,
and why he loves her.

Who tucks her hair
behind her ear,
and whispers a secret
only meant for her.

All I can do
is watch from a distance,
and dream
of what it might feel like
to be her.

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Where the Fog Finds Me

I never know when the fog will come.
There is no warning.
No reason.
No mercy.

I get stuck in a moment of hazy confusion—
This doesn’t make sense.
This can’t be me.

I’m lost in the thickness,
The air too heavy to move through.
Nothing is clear.
Everything feels wrong.

Voices swirl around me,
Telling me what I need to do.
So many things to remember.
So many things I’ll forget.

My cloudy mind searches for a clearing.
But the path back disappears.

The fog will lift soon—
I just need to wait.
I tell myself that.
But even waiting feels impossible.

I can’t respond.
I missed their story.
I have nothing to say.
My gaze was there,
But my mind was gone.

How do I survive in this world
If I can’t calm the storm?

I wish I could hide.
I wish I could escape.
I wish I was normal.
I wish I wasn’t foolish.

Then—
the fog begins to lift.
Reality returns.
The world reappears.

And I see the face in front of me.
Someone who is still trying to connect.
Someone who is offering something real.
And I’ve already missed half of it.

I feel like an awful person—
Because I didn’t listen.
Because I couldn’t stay present.
Because I wasn’t enough.

They’ll think I don’t care.
They’ll stop trying.
They’ll find others.
They’ll leave.

And I will hate this part of me.
I will wish it gone.
I will miss all the moments
I lose to the fog.

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When Oil Meets Water

I am oil.
He is water.

I am movement.
He is stillness.

I am restless.
He is calm.

I search for meaning.
He lives by fact.

I crave creation.
He’s content with what is.

I hunger for excitement.
He finds peace in quiet.

I want more.
He wants less.

I start to feel unsettled.
Frustrated.
Confused.
A pressure builds inside me.

I start to bubble.
He tries to cool me down.

The oil begins to burn.
He doesn’t see it.

But it wasn’t just him.
It was the silence from others.
The expectations.
The gaslighting.
The judgment disguised as advice.
The versions of me they demanded.
The voices that told me to shrink.

The fire didn’t start with one person.
It started when it was all too much.
When everyone wanted a piece
but no one stayed to hold the weight.

The heat builds.
I’m afraid of what’s coming.

His water starts to simmer.
My fire catches flame.

He tries to contain it,
but it spreads fast.
Nothing works.
Nothing helps.

The fire grows.
It feeds on everything
I buried deep inside.

Years of control.
Years of losing myself.
Years of silence.
Years of being unheard.
Years of becoming who they needed me to be.

He begins to evaporate.
He’s slipping away.
He surrenders quietly,
without a fight.

But the fire stays.
It burns for self-respect.
It burns for peace.
It burns for truth.
It burns for release.

Now they all see it.
Now they feel the heat.
Now they listen.
Now they understand.

The fire calms,
but it still burns,
steady,
on purpose.
It won’t leave
until it’s done.

Everyone is holding their breath.
Everyone waits for the calm.
Everyone wants it to be over.

He holds onto hope.
He wants me back.
He wants this to end.

But I’m not oil anymore.
I am the flame.
It has changed me.
There’s no going back.

I am fire.
He is water.

And now I live inside the fire—
burning quietly,
questioning everything.

Will the fire fade?
Will it consume me?
Or will it shape me
into something new?

I don’t know what comes next.
I only know
I’m still burning,
still changing,
still trying
to find my way.

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