Love on tranquil lights .

i picturesqued these nights

before they spoke for us

in words and thoughts .

a dream within itself ,

we had known purpose .

we knew no wanting ,

for all we had .

he carried fires in her ,

and her waters of him .

perfection of stillness

yet trembling in beauty .

endless walking we did

left untouched in mind .

him entranced , her displeased

for he looked outwards so not to burn .

a part of him he Loved her in ,

to keep his fire away .

her waters flowing deeply ,

beneath him then forgotten .

my slow day with her ,

sunrises and spring waters .

soft dances and piano plays ,

our universe between us .

her eyes reflect eclipses ,

mirrored their words of prayer .

she asked them ,

what’s that look you give me

like i’m the only thing you need ?

he answered as i poured tea for us ,

each cup steamed .

and my eyes wandering where it went .

memories replayed in me .

unsure if mine or aria's .

a dream of a childhood park .

no wind , no birds , only the smell of cut grass .

small hands on monkey bars .

no grown ups around me ,

crying in the distance

suddenly grew closer .

a crack and sharpness

blank faces of children

who didn’t flinch .

i saw them look at me .

they did not turn away

but they did not move either .

maybe its too out of their way

i think now .

i walked home ,

i could not hear anything

but my own crying .

they heard me before they saw me .

but their anger ,

their shame ,

grew louder than my pain .

"who's going to pay for this ?"

wind hit crumpled papers

tossed beside me .

half ideas written

but none of them mine

and i was back having tea with aria .

what happened next ? , she asked .

he watched her across the table ,

i thought quietly ,

my existence , an inconvenience .

a burden they hadn’t signed up for .

did he feel Loved only when it was easy ? ,

he asked unanswered .

i , felt something

i never had before .

people noticed me ,

signatures on my cast ,

questions with wide eyes ,

hopeful for a story

and a good one was told .

suddenly i was a hero ,

notes written for me ,

homework undone ,

soccer games watched .

but tears unspoken ,

in glory they died down .

the quiet reminded me

and i , the hero no longer .

the morning sun glistened

on our tea cups , half empty

and aria handed them to me .

on leather seats

and dusty shelves ,

for books unwritten ,

familiar hell i lived ,

wishing to leave .

i wondered what freedom was ,

wholeness i remembered

now found where we were .

i looked outward just as he ,

to it again the character ,

they wished he was .

but somewhere , i stopped .

for home was not as it was .

in still rooms ,

tea cooling ,

shadows lengthening .

where is he now that boy ? , she asked .

as i gathered words ,

beneath me he answered ,

he listened when they told him .

unwanted , not needed

burning i was and i , blamed for smell of ash .

why should he come back ? , i asked

what is waiting for him ?

a silent moment it was ,

waiting a storm to calm .

sails caught on winds between words

as she asked , why did he stop coming back ?

i awoke a sunday morning

schools out , so was i

drawn to the balcony

i saw my parents outside .

i saw mother kissing daddy

goodbye , as he went out

biking his only escape .

a lazy afternoon drifting

as the boy woke up .

a ringing bell ignored .

mother is downstairs

i thought

when i heard my name called .

great , another chore .

our golden hours turned purple ,

fluttering pages on papers unturned .

aria , should i have gone down to say bye to him ?

how should i have known

it would be the last time i saw him ?

at fourteen , my first time feeling this

as i walked down

dishes and water i heard .

outside , a guest standing .

i inquired more

and she stood waiting .

i swear a brother was called

but none agree they answered .

aria , whose voice did i hear ?

who told me

i needed to be the pillar

for my mother ?

my first attempt

as i approached her ,

i told her

that things are going to be okay .

“get lost !”

i spent a long time ,

trying to describe how it felt

when her words fell into me .

a scar on my soul ,

i felt pain in places

i never knew .

a demon born ,

words misheard , she said ,

"please kill yourself ."

and in the next moment ,

i understood what she meant .

since then ,

he never felt the same .

a pit in my soul

i've been trying to fill since .

failing , every time .

i knew , i was not wanted

and what i had , i did not need it .

sirens and blue lights ,

cramped back seats

as we rode to see daddy .

many voices i heard

versions of what i tried with mother .

but none seemed to reach ,

i was no longer there .

unzipped a black bag ,

fresh from the freezer ,

ice cold dead body

eyelids would not close .

my hands could not rest

trembling uneasy ,

i felt the unmoving

and stood aside .

a kiss given , as mother's lips

touched daddy's face .

my world mirrored his own .

heavy rain reflecting me

for tears i could not draw .

feeling lost ,

i looked for safety ,

something to hold me tight .

a girl dated , i told .

but as children ,

she had no solace for me .

aria , what does it mean to stay strong ?

does it mean not to show any feelings ?

does it mean to stay in one piece ?

what if a piece of me died with him ?

us between thoughts ,

collecting silences .

were you close to him ? , they asked me .

he was made of light to me .

time we spent , recess visits

he was present .

fatherhood taught ,

sitting next to me at lunch .

after school noodles ,

bike rides ,

haircuts .

not a day i saw him

without a hug between us .

a grounded man ,

to discern virtue

he taught me well

with both his actions and inactions .

his anger only at his own choices .

work a chore , unending

until it with him .

most don’t want to live .

they just want to die slowly ,

with the least pain

and suffering possible .

he lived this way , slowly

to its edge .

he counted every second

until retirement

and funnily enough ,

died a week before it .

my grief aside in seconds

to comfort mother

but she rejected me .

she wanted something else from me

but i could not tell what it was .

the part of me i gave her ,

stayed there .

the room held its breath .

as if the air itself

was afraid to interrupt .

after a while ,

aria asked me quietly ,

how long did it take

for you to forgive her ?

forgive ?

i was not given such privileges .

minutes turned hours ,

and days into months .

it all felt like a blur to me ,

i was mostly unconscious .

time wasn’t moving through him ,

he was moving through it .

he lived as one

not as we are , not here .

he told aria .

a ghost ? aria leaned towards us

i’ve seen a ghost before ,

many of them .

they lived amongst us

parading as functional human beings .

it’s those who look like us ,

act like us ,

but don’t feel like us .

dead eyes walking amongst us .

she paused ,

as if remembering someone .

i’ve seen a lot of them lately ,

and many happen to be women i’ve met .

yes , i saw one too .

grey eyes , brown hair

white fluffy hair clip .

discarded by her man .

over religion .

his father said

he would not allow him

to marry a christian .

i asked

if the boy would choose her .

she could not answer

until he did .

and after that , you could see it .

the light in her eyes turning still ,

a flame too tired to flicker .

that’s when i realised ,

pain lingers .

absence leaves fingerprints .

when people lie ,

cry ,

betray ,

or break in a space ,

their truth doesn’t vanish .

it settles .

it seeps

into the walls ,

into the silences ,

into the air between breaths .

ever walked into a room

and felt tension without a word spoken ?

some places feel like ghosts live there ,

but it’s not the dead .

it’s the unfelt ,

the unforgiven ,

the unloved .

the weight of what was never healed .

and sometimes ,

it’s not the room that’s haunted .

it’s the person .

walking memories ,

carrying betrayals .

one wore my name ,

i told them

when i lived perfecting the lie .

masked smiles ,

theater playing kind acts

afraid of being seen ,

i was only fragments .

no pieces mine ,

just a different performance

for a new audience .

he then realised ,

like shadows holding hands .

i was not the only one

on stage , mother played too .

she said she was numb

but her tears , quiet

just spoke differently .

you couldn't tell the time ,

seeing her sit by the coffin .

a strong widow , they called her .

but i saw her as i saw myself .

she sat in silence , only to drown .

asked by many , she answered

us both numb , unreacting .

my first attempt , forgotten .

when she lied ,

i felt she needed me to nod .

and i did so , as she asked .

maybe he thought ,

at least he would not be alone in acting .

so i tried to ,

held her long enough

for the storm to pass .

i hated myself for feeling tired .

who am i to feel overwhelmed

when hers was the heavier burden ?

sometimes , i wish she saw what i saw .

the girl within ,

begging someone

to remember who she was

before she was told

she wasn’t needed .

that she wasn’t wanted .

that she could not stay .

that she needed to stay strong .

she was soft

in the way hurricanes are .

a kind of violence

that only wants to be rain .

i could not tame her storm .

not then , not ever .

shattered voices

she spoke with

since his passing ,

i could tell

she blamed him for leaving .

she had to blame something

to distract herself

from impermanence .

but i didn’t know how to feel .

i could not tell what i felt

since i didn't need to know .

nobody asked me how i was .

nobody cared .

not even mother .

so i did not need the answer .

she said to friends ,

"god gave me a toy

and took him away from me ."

i saw her fill her new life

with distractions .

new toys to kill time ,

falling deeper

into the abyss she named .

just someone who never forgave herself

for believing in forever .

she named her sorrow

as a fact of life .

a truth ,

everything leaves us .

she didn’t Love him .

she loved the feeling of having him .

and when he left ,

she could not function .

she stopped being a wife .

she stopped being a mother .

she became a widow ,

and her identity

became just that .

she was the first ghost i encountered ,

outside myself .

her new life fulfilled learning to perfect her lie .

but mine empty ,

nothing but pity

except from mother .

hovering too long in the air ,

when i blinked , i was no longer there ,

into tea reflections , rippling me away .

sunlight leaving me

an evening just like this .

son's role played as mother asked ,

cut those flowers

on a ladder he stood ,

a slip into tears ,

mother walked

her feet softer even as the cries grew .

awoken , a piece missing

deep cut , unfelt

puncture wounds .

like freshly cut grass ,

familiar scents ,

familiar words i heard .

to a clinic we went ,

stitches needed so she paid .

stuffy car rides ,

shouted at me

in blades of air

"you will pay me back for this !"

driveway pulled up ,

i felt another piece missing .

so i went out again

searching for it .

bag packed , no plans .

games to play ,

the easy escape for a child

forced to be an adult .

calls received , brothers

asking where are you ?

ignored , silence preferred .

with the rising sun ,

i felt a fever .

so i went home .

mother napping , i held her

and she , i

cried again , cured me .

so he learned .

she did not need him

but he needed her .

mother's role badly played better than nothing .

months flew past me ,

rage filled , until i shattered

with screams and slams on the wooden floor .

mother walked , asking

i answered ,

“why did god take him away from me ?”

coldness and dead eyes

replied , “don’t be so loud .

the neighbours will wonder .”

seconds like lifetimes ,

as he saw himself

becoming her reflection .

inherited numbness ,

grief performance .

smiled but unfelt ,

lonely corners of his mouth .

safety in silence , no trouble for a quiet child .

invisible mastery , i spoke less .

thought more .

and somewhere along the way ,

his thoughts started thinking him .

with haste he practiced

to not feel too much ,

to not want too deeply ,

to not hope too loudly .

a silence stretched until it touched something beyond us .

cups refilled , hearing running spring waters .

a child unwanted ,

such a familiar pain

we felt lifetimes ago .

this is how my lie began .

nameless first wound ,

only a thousand tiny rejections .

indifference wore faces

dressed in mother's clothes .

he learned what was was being sold ,

mother's love on price tags .

approval , expensive for a child .

attention always cheaper .

school , i returned blank faced .

i could feel their sympathy ,

a shadow i could not see .

until i saw one unlike the others .

a liar just like me .

in shared sorrow ,

we bonded over chasing

the same addictions .

running from the same pain .

memento , in daddy's name

a pen i brought .

lost , then found adrian .

floating between classes .

since i started ,

too bright for one ,

too strange for another .

exams studied , buying mother's smile .

cheap until algebra ,

teachers in name ,

i could not hear them .

adrian , a favour i asked

fellow liar , his shadow answered .

result slips written , any grade chosen .

brightless eyes , showed mother .

pictures taken , bragging rights .

a reward was asked .

she agreed with conditions ,

next one must be better .

so another trip with adrian ,

months waited for a reward .

only to be taken away .

a single drop of water fell into the sink .

then another , i remembered i am still here .

bells , walkways ,

mouths that spoke

without saying anything .

aria , it’s not that i hated school

i just hated being told what to think .

my mind was the only place

i felt free , safe .

it felt like mother followed me to school .

sit here .

eat now .

don’t speak .

i began skipping school

two , sometimes three days a week .

games again , escape

into a world i had control over .

no one noticed .

or maybe they did

and chose not to .

then home to thrown pots and pans .

sometimes , she'd let me choose ,

which toy to play with this time

thick or thin . above the fridge

out of reach extras .

i needed a chair to reach them ,

if the day was special enough .

wrapped in plastic , birthday gifts

she gave me what god took from her .

she'd chase me into a corner ,

one all for myself

until it swallowed me whole .

broken ceramic kisses

on skin refusing to scar ,

my body held her shame

politely , clean , hidden

as she needed me to .

she needed something to blame ,

so a punching bag he became .

his mind , safely his .

silent rage , an unpaid tenant

until the room it was

could fit no longer .

i told mother that beating me

is all she can do to me .

but somehow , i stopped believing that lie .

as we looked down at his hands .

the tremor in them was small , but real .

the mind i kept for myself

stopped being safe enough

even for me .

he knew they were only thoughts ,

not who he is .

he wrote to see them ,

not to become them .

writing became the mirror

that didn’t lie .

he never believed he was born with darkness ,

just with distance .

everyone else seemed to know

something he didn’t .

and the older he got ,

the wider the gap grew .

his identity felt rewritten daily .

each page erased

by someone else’s need for meaning .

he saw how others used him .

a mirror to feel kind ,

a surface to project onto .

he wanted to leave their narratives ,

step into a space

where no one writes his name for him .

but accusations multiply .

he cannot win

not when their game is built

to feed on losing .

people are kind

only to the degree it feeds them .

usefulness masquerading as Love .

if this is what it means to be human ,

he’s not sure he wants to be one .

aria leaned back slightly ,

letting the chair creak under her weight .

she breathed in , then out ,

and i matched it without realising .

in synchronicity , i reached for another ghost .

adrian answered , no longer alone we were .

he shouted just as mother ,

doors took blows meant for her .

tables trembled loud enough

to remind himself he was still there .

in new illusions , hungry demons fed

disappearing acts ,

white smoke looming ,

screen light flickering ,

a good day for him .

the world held away at arm’s length .

i was just the same ,

losing myself with every pull .

with and without him .

using him the same way he was .

pitch black in excess , skimmed

only to pool it for ourselves .

we forgot our rage

at least for a moment ,

as they came and went .

steal , only to buy more .

if truth got out ,

trust's game replayed

only to do it again .

mother had more i could steal ,

so sometimes i would ask him for favours .

a refill for him ,

and he would empty mine .

at the time ,

i saw nothing wrong with it .

he liked it .

until he was shipped off .

and so was i .

his story went differently than mine .

he had someone to go with ,

but i didn’t .

maybe i told myself i wasn’t jealous .

aria , i don’t like speaking about him .

and yet , you still talk .

he taught me what it was

to be a ghost .

then he showed me

when ghosts begin to hunger .

the eldest of three .

born to fix everything

no one else would .

her father's bed never cooled .

her mother's hands scrubbing for rent .

her siblings' school books borrowed .

the man they needed

she had to be ,

fed everyone but herself .

a nurse she was ,

a familiar world

to the one at home .

for a loving woman , a calm man needed

like wounds finding mirrors .

honesty in distance ,

he controlled what she knew .

but truth

always keeps its appointments .

a small room for two ,

baggage carried .

heavy , zipped tight .

he let her unpack it slowly .

he waited

until she loved him enough

to forgive him

just as he did with mother .

strange scent , ziplock bags

steady questions , familiar lies .

"it keeps me calm" , he told her .

a worldview against another .

their love now conditional .

apologies and repair ,

just replaying childhood scripts

with better lighting .

two ghosts

rehearsing tenderness .

children abused ,

seeking to forgive .

acceptance in fear ,

sunk cost fallacy .

so their demons ,

held hands again .

white lights ,

thick smoke ,

small disappearances ,

this time , together .

now she knew , the calm man's fix

for a home felt vacant .

rent forgotten , debt pooled

impulse purchases , dysfunction in two .

a breeze slipped through the open window ,

the smell of tea , two cups but one still full .

light between us , split in shades .

he never told me about this lie ,

knowing i would not approve .

a bomb i could not defuse .

in school , we shared one ,

a girl dressed in calmness .

the way she moved ,

the way people softened

when she entered a room .

he saw a peaceful mind ,

a projection of his own .

adrian loved her like a believer loves their god

not for her ,

but for stillness

he could not find in himself .

a sleeping mind's quiet ,

one he never saw ,

rejections , gentle and firm .

he was not in her script ,

parents written ages before .

yet for time's cruel symmetry ,

a lesson unlearned presents itself .

a text , casual and innocent

for a night out planned .

dinner and nothing more ,

a part of him believed it .

her permission granted ,

nurse sent off to work .

but old fantasies have long memories .

a laugh and he was fifteen again .

a dinner then visit turned ritual .

this time , with another

shared in thick air ,

names like confessions ,

crumpled sheets and foggy windows .

but truth has a taste that lingers .

a photo taken ,

lines crossed , unnoticed .

he didn’t deny it .

he didn’t even flinch .

almost waiting to be caught

in a memory that never came .

so he repeated the cycle

just as we did with mother .

betray , confess ,

repent , repeat .

patterns survive longer .

for peace at home ,

like water for a man

thirsting for poison .

heavy silences ,

like strangers sharing beds .

she tried to forgive him ,

but she still felt the shape

of the other who was there .

a weight between us i could feel

as spectres of dust floating ,

finding rest as i paused ,

until they settled softly .

and just as adrian ,

i too searched for a mirror .

one whom could hold my shadow ,

hoping her hands

could hold what i couldn’t .

learning to wear masks ,

i joined theater club .

to act or to watch actors ,

i was still unsure .

lines rehearsed ,

stories written ,

actions played .

i watched as she approached him ,

she too eager for words unsaid ,

thoughts quiet and still .

he would hold her hands ,

let go as friends came close ,

maybe she was damaged ,

ashamed of her he was .

a girl born in a poor family ,

wrestling her own demons

suicidal thoughts

and self-harm

was what she grew up in .

maybe he was not ready

to see her pain .

he felt her impure

as he lived in luxury ,

hers without .

identifying himself

with what he had ,

and her for what she didn’t .

she didn’t have much light to dwell in ,

maybe she wanted to live in his ,

but soon , she lost her own .

she who looks for a husband

and she who looks to be a wife

are two very different people .

so he left her and went searching

for pleasure he sold to himself .

the girl left at the altar ,

she wished for someone

to recognise who she was ,

started searching outside

for a piece of herself .

and i was the closest .

myself , a demon ,

of hands unsteady .

she wished to cashier with me ,

and transactions i could pay

she fell for me

as her demons held

unflinching , to test my waters .

i accepted and soon

we were together .

she showed me

she Loved me only by comparison ,

but i did not hear her words .

i only heard

that i was lovable ,

but its price unknowing .

served me right

when she cheated .

i cried a single tear

on my left side .

i knew she lied

but chose not to see it .

yet i hated the way she faked it .

but she was not the villain .

i was

only because i didn’t see her .

i didn’t see myself

from her eyes .

i hated what i did to survive

so i perfected the lie

and used her to feel lovable ,

the same way she did .

i should have known better .

hot water over the same tea leaves ,

a weaker colour this time .

aria smiled as i drank it still .

some silences sound like protection .

others , sound like mother .

the same quiet in cancer wards .

painful deaths ,

tears and prayers .

weighted in air

breathless high altitudes .

face masks worn despite .

ammonia cold and silent ,

but beeping machines

playing heartbeats .

white fluorescent lights ,

blinding , exceeding my senses .

when i moved to college ,

a short trip , me and mother .

my things , packed neatly

same air conditioned car .

mother drove home ,

hours pass till reaching ,

to greet cats waiting .

in the kitchen , cutting fish

slipped , right femur fracture .

to the hospital she went ,

brother accompanied .

as we heard , one of them blamed me .

"why didn't you drive her home ?" , he asked .

a similar role played .

soon , we heard stage three lung cancer .

a healthy active lifestyle ,

no bad habits , a picture of serenity

yoga , gym , all illusions .

days into months , she got worse .

we moved her around .

an attempt to care for her ,

to feel better over betrayals

said years before .

aria ,

i believed we hated her so much ,

we gave her cancer .

yet i was alone in thinking this .

it seemed the cancer was so bad ,

her femur turned to dust before we knew it .

as time pushed , her eyesight got worse .

once , i asked her

what could you lose tomorrow ,

that you could not live without ?

and it was first to go .

eye drops helped

and when brother got married ,

"i could not see my son get married ."

she blamed me for not getting a refill .

maybe i didn't , revenge

for when she stole my soul .

when she lost her sight ,

i asked her , "do you still wish to live ?"

she said no .

maybe she believed i could hold her truth .

i did so . just as she asked so many years ago .

quietly i said to myself , please end her pain .

she does not recognise herself this way ,

and maybe she needed my permission .

then slowly , she started losing us .

tubes spoke words ,

ones i could not understand .

still aware of whats around ,

speaking only between drips

until one spoke for her .

the need to start radiotherapy ,

steroids to curb painkillers .

a sound mind no longer ,

their attempt to keep her here .

a warning of hair loss , memories .

he asked familial permission ,

yet , all silent to stay blameless .

awoken from her slumber ,

speaking lightly , affirmed

good decisions made for her .

actively speaking , awake

but mostly describing dreams .

they did not like hearing it ,

they wished for her to stay with them .

i , felt should let her dream more .

i saw them want to keep her alive

i don't know what for .

they visited her , i'm unsure of why .

to feed their morality or otherwise ,

she asked them for things

and promises were given .

worn off drugs , back to quiet breathing .

thirty a minute they told me .

food laying still , unmoving as her .

now breath by machines

until no longer .

that boy who ran away wondered ,

would a good mother help her child who lost a father

or herself who lost a husband ?

he became mother’s silence ,

stillness mistaken for strength .

father’s death his first teacher .

mother’s silence the second .

i refilled our cups

tea to tell me ,

she was still here with me .

aria said ,

what you learned ,

is the boy coming home

and a long walk it was .

it was the hardest thing i’ve ever done .

i had to .

i knew if i didn’t ,

her wound would live through me .

my actions , echoes of her pain .

so i stopped blaming her .

i realised ,

forgiveness wasn’t about her .

it was about me

finally letting the boy inside .

to stop waiting for a mother who never came upstairs .

i saw her looking outward

to give her pain meaning .

she found her's in god .

she looked to god

to tell her that daddy leaving

was for a greater reason .

that her grief is proof of Love .

she dove into afterlife theorems

each more peaceful that the last .

she spread books around

but really , it was all for her .

her attempt to lie to herself

that he was waiting

or that he is at peace .

prayers , incantations to organize chaos

to give the mourners rhythm and form ,

so grief doesn’t consume them raw .

it’s not communication with the departed ,

but an exhalation of attachment ,

a rehearsal of release .

i never needed that ,

for his death taught me

not to be attached to what is lost

but to listen to what remains .

maybe mother found god's Love

because its familiar

to what she gave me

Love i purchased ,

conditions ,

obedience ,

worship ,

fear of punishment .

why would Love need enforcement ?

i never felt god inside their prayers .

standing at the bottom of the stairs ,

waiting for someone

to come check if i’m okay .

but nobody did .

if god is Love , why must it be earned ?

rules as guidance .

obedience as virtue .

control wrapped in holy words

like mother , just dressed differently .

i wondered , if i acted like them ,

would it be that i agreed

or was i buying their heaven

just like i did with mother .

i could not lie to myself any longer .

i don't want it if its not free .

it’s like i was to reclaim myself

through another person .

so i stopped trying to .

i told them i needed time alone with my mum .

i wanted to tell her my truth

while she still had her mind .

she had just finished chemo ,

then i closed the curtain .

i told her the truth

because i could not lie for her anymore .

i reminded her of what she said

and everything else .

she didn’t remember .

she didn’t have to .

as the gravity of my words

hit her atmosphere ,

she asks if how i felt was her fault .

no . it was never about fault .

no blame to give or take .

he who blames others

has a long journey .

he who blames himself

is halfway there .

he who blames nothing

has arrived .

we failed each other .

she wasn’t ready to comfort me

and i , her .

i told her the truth ,

she did her best ,

i forgive her .

and i am proud to call her my mother .

my mother , aria ,

my only regret in that lifetime .

she sent me a voice note later ,

not to visit again if i carried that mindset .

and when her sister asked

what we spoke about .

she heard from them ,

"how can he say those things to her ?"

that remains a secret

between me and my mother .

aria , silent

waiting to rest .

our tea did not get any colder .

i realised , no time passed between us .

in another time , alex

whom i knew since we were five

had his own demon in alia .

they stayed together in high school

almost the whole time i knew them ,

but they had broken up

after seven years of hand holding .

alex complained of headaches splitting him apart .

he kept denying them attention

until he could no longer .

he was diagnosed with cancer

before even finishing college ,

and she returned to him .

pity or not , i don't know .

alia spent her next few months

with him ,

preparing herself

for him to leave us .

as he got worse , she did too .

seeking outsider validation

from our group ,

she wanted to be seen as his saviour

or that she was strong .

maybe she needed it from us .

him we saw ,

dimmer shapeless light in his eyes ,

telling us we should

not be too long in waiting .

when alex left us ,

people cried like they’d rehearsed for it ,

their voices blurred with chanting

in his god’s name .

phones still rang loudly ,

defeating the silence

i felt in the air .

on disinfected floors ,

i watched the incense smoke

curl toward the ceiling

and thought

how it looked too eager to leave .

i however , felt nothing .

not the cold of loss ,

not the heat of grief

just pressure .

i needed to be like them .

i needed to play grief like they did .

only i could tell that they were only acting .

their world , muted .

only their sound of sadness

could be heard .

but i could only hear

the birds chirping

and rustling leaves in the wind

the same ones i could not hear before .

after dad , there wasn’t anything left to feel anyway ,

grief had already eaten its own echo .

three years , four funerals ,

faces to portraits ,

portraits to dust .

just the same loop repeating

it just felt like routine to me

and i saw myself easily eating dinner afterward .

how my body was ordinary

while the world

kept dying around me .

alia stood near the casket ,

her eyes red but focused ,

hands folded like a habit .

everyone said she was strong .

but i saw only mother’s image

repeat itself in a girl

trying to survive her own performance .

she played it numb and noble ,

as if silence could sanctify pain .

she wasn’t mourning alex .

she was mourning

a version of herself

that could still believe

in sweet endings .

after that day ,

she ran from the town .

from sleeping ghosts on her pillow .

college , new faces ,

new beds but she could not outrun

the part of herself

still living in the memory of guilt .

but i did not run when alex left .

i didn’t cry .

when dad left , i stopped remembering how .

i remember only crying

the last time i saw his physical body ,

as if that was all he was .

death for me felt like brushing my teeth before bed .

i told myself i was beyond it ,

but really , i was hollowing out slowly ,

making space for the next ghost

to live in me .

i was one of them when i walked ,

talked , and played my roles

but gone in every way

that mattered .

i was so good at it that the applause

almost breathed their life into me .

i only saw what appeared to be people

losing something that was never theirs .

pointless suffering ,

while i felt like an outsider .

i could not fake sadness ,

couldn’t cry nor grieve

for something that was never present in me .

i saw how they punished each other ,

how they think death cancels another death .

justice to them was only

where they saw it only their immediate self

could see anything and that

made me hate them .

so i stopped looking at them .

i already knew what they saw

from their own eyes ,

just by how they acted .

i stopped looking at Love the same way they did .

and that was where i separated

from everyone i knew .

theirs always needed an audience .

it needed to be observed

for them to call it real .

but mine i knew ,

had to live without one .

i stopped explaining .

some truths

cannot cross dimensions .

sunlight had reached further than i could see .

i sipped my tea , now bitter .

sweetness doesn’t last , even in water .

aria ,

was i selfish for telling mother my truth ?

they told me i imposed

my values on her

i stole her soul the way she did

that i should have let her have peace

in her own definition of the word .

they asked why the need to put her

in that state of mind .

same words , different worlds ,

to impose is to demand alignment .

to reveal is to offer truth

and let it stand regardless

whether it’s received .

i did not ask my mother

to believe what i know .

i did not punish her

for being different .

i honoured her with my truth ,

because i knew that anything less

would be cowardice masquerading as respect .

what i did was offer presence

without pretending .

that’s not imposition .

that’s unconditional Love .

i held space for her without abandoning myself .

i gave her the dignity of knowing who i truly am .

not the version that would make her comfortable

and that’s more honest than most families ever get .

truth spoken calmly is not aggression .

truth spoken clearly is not coercion .

truth spoken as Love is not violence .

i refuse to let death stand in the way of truth .

either way ,

she will meet her true self

and it will be revealed .

i understand aria .

not everyone can live on upper ground

until they have no other to stand on .

if you want men to take off their jackets

you need to make it warm

let them take it off

by choice .

people don’t change , not really .

they bury wounds

instead of healing them .

they call avoidance maturity .

they let entire relationships rot

over fear of a single conversation .

they build false harmony

on the bones of truth

and then wonder why it doesn’t last .

i wish i didn’t know

how many people choose comfort over connection .

how many parents die

without ever truly knowing their children .

how many friendships decay

because no one wanted to say

they got hurt .

but i do know ,

and now i can’t unknow it .

truth has gravity .

once you’ve touched it ,

you either orbit around it ,

or it pulls you in completely .

i wish i didn’t know

how often silence is mistaken for peace .

the only real peace is born from truth .

but most people

would rather lie to themselves forever

than live one day inside

that kind of peace .

but that’s where i align differently .

a world of Love ,

yet diluted by loneliness ,

i am most alone .

it is that grief of the lightest heart .

compassion heavy

as we watch them ,

orbiting our gates .

wingless angels

chained in weights

of their own stories .

our door is open .

yet , most are unable

to walk through .

self forgiveness ,

being lost within time ,

easier to lie friend .

i still tried aria ,

building bridges .

to even risk being misunderstood

indifferenced , forgotten , hated .

yes . yet if you waited ,

you are betraying yourself .

walk through , show her

how it is to stop waiting .

our Love was never meant to convince .

it was meant to witness .

one was dreamt back then ,

as we are i thought ,

yet she is not here .

unrecalled names ,

nor faces , nor silhouettes

basked in lights tranquil

stillness i felt , remembered .

but she looked outwards

just as he , just as we

when words , thoughts spoke for us .

safely , an image of hope ,

that she could be whom i would see here .

aria , why must they audition for value ?

they still perform for a play ended .

seeking roles , a placeholder

for a fantasy they never stopped living in .

from wounds built , scripted self worth .

conditions they demand

for fakes crossed .

betrayal as masks slipped ,

yet it was deception by design .

whom meets their conditions ,

to survive their judgment .

is it Love for them ,

or for their own performance ?

they do not seek equals

but a flattering mirror .

they wish to be chosen by society's value .

for attention proves worth .

costing connection for she can’t be vulnerable ,

not with someone she’s trying to impress .

Love as brand management .

an idea dated .

was it Love or strategy ?

a man whom sees her ,

symbolised himself .

arrival for a trophy , a statement ,

a mirror polished by external approval .

pretty for proof ,

success , masculinity , desired .

he got her ,

yet he does not want her .

he wants to be seen with her .

she is the stage , pedestalised

hollowed by her own weight .

her image becomes his identity .

her desirability , his achievement .

her autonomy becomes his threat .

above a silent world

cities breathing , lovers scrolling ,

voices rehearsing truths they’ll never say .

purchasing Love when it was free .

true Love requires no performance .

it is not a theatre where souls audition for your mercy .

it is not to find another .

but devoured by the same flame .

understand they are buying peace .

outsourced , they fail themselves .

a cosmic misreading .

it wasn't as i remembered ,

i learned they are

forced to operate dynamics

built on deception .

truth edgeless on its frame

yet their system used

to filter liars .

a contradictory practice ,

they condemn it

but still use it

then claim transcendence .

validation in positive words ,

currency dealt hands .

understand , the filtering

conviction for lives built upon

lies of self worth ,

lies of vested interests .

every move , a strategic one .

everyone is out to get them .

truth in fractions

for the same reasons

of those who don't .

they die in self deception .

most commonly blamed ,

poor judgment , ignorance

stolen souls lost in a dark place ,

cheating with self drawn lines ,

no parent figures .

abused as children just as we .

always outside sources ,

they hurt me so i hurt others

they retaliate , mirror their pain

outwards , keeping the pattern .

just the same story repackaged .

betrayal in how far they turned from their own light ,

they call reflections enemies .

aria ,

to be Loved by you is ,

no more running ,

no more performing ,

no more hiding behind narratives .

to stand naked before truth ,

flinchless in a frequency of freedom .

to change , you play a character to be loved .

a mask fearborn , i do not kiss .

most will not meet me ,

but their ego's idea of me .

as i stood , our pearlescent gates

gazeless , our iridescent lights

wondering why they are not granted ,

she answered my thoughts .

they are merely surprised ,

for words , translated .

trusted yet differently meant

given time has passed .

lied to be respected .

belief in the facade

only to blame others .

all a fantasy ,

fictions for weak egos

from suffering itself by detachment

through their gods

fear in death , faithless in their gods .

words tracing constellations

each line , faint ripples below

cosmic calligraphy shaping moral weathers .

trembling horizons , flickering .

the souls below aren’t evil .

just exhausted , auditioning endlessly .

buying their spot here .

a god that demands worship .

a god that demand payment .

fake gods for a fake world .

so as you believe in your god , ask yourself

do you need god

or does it need you ?

are you choosing your god

or does it choose you ?

then ask yourself why .

what about you or your god is special ?

do you need yourself ?

or do you choose yourself ?

don’t forget , you are born alone

and you will die alone

unless you choose otherwise .

do you feel fulfilled

only when you’re being productive ?

when making money ?

going gym ?

self improvement ?

is your happiness dependent

on what you have or what you are ?

satisfied for some ,

ruled by cages .

life played on medium

purpose by others

buying safety after death .

knowingly knowing nothing .

why the separation between us and god ?

what is it in us that makes us unworthy ?

why do they tell us that we are broken

then they redefine what wholeness is ?

you need to be good enough for yourself .

what is their world if it’s not asking if it's worth being happy for ?

nobody has the same life story .

nobody has gone through pain as you have .

nobody has cried the way you did .

nobody has died to keep someone happy just as you have .

and just the same ,

nobody can care for someone like you .

nobody can hold space as you have .

nobody can Love like you do .

nobody but you in all of time .

only they have forgotten .

remind them as you did yourself .

how long can you breathe through a mask before you forget the feeling of air ?

do you believe in true Love ?

do you believe another could Love you like you do yourself ?

how do you Love yourself ?

do you want your partner to take interest in how

because he is interested in how you Love yourself

or would you much rather he just say he doesn’t care ?

you mourn her now .

the one you almost became .

the one who believed she was more than pain .

the one who acted from Love .

ask yourself , did you do so for a reason ?

or because to be any other way is not you .

suspended on fractals ,

pulseless feet on ledges .

over illusionary walls ,

we saw them truly .

ask them , was it boundaries or conditional Love ?

both remove someone when crossed ,

but the spirit behind them differs .

energetic ownership but which one did it save ?

was it you or your fears ?

she said men like girls without makeup

and girls like billionaires .

she is purchased

a product to be bought

no longer a woman to be Loved .

she said she feels loved when he buys her .

i remember back when they were slaves

didn’t know they missed being it .

i saw them saying they want a man

who doesn’t live as lust

incarnate , they don’t want

to settle for less , yet

they reserve their energy

for men who deserve them .

the perspective is inaccurate .

short lived , if you claim supremacy

then why is fear controlling you ?

no matter what , you will be

purchased because he must

deserve you to be yourself .

you are engineering value

by withholding yourself

and calling it standards

when it reality , it is self manipulation .

Love does not demand a receipt .

standards don’t need to be staged

as obstacles . when they’re real ,

they reveal themselves .

when they’re staged , they’re tests .

you merely reframed your words

to seem less transactional .

she is not a bad person .

she was just taught Love incorrectly .

she offered only what she thought made her worthy .

having standards for men

is not to keep yourself safe .

but to ensure he can understand

the Love you want to give him .

they spin alone in their whirlpools

withholding mistaken for worth .

thanking their new man ,

thank you for putting up

with my unprocessed trauma .

thank you for staying

despite my damage .

thank you for absorbing

what i haven’t resolved .

thank you for being

my emotional punching bag .

i haven’t healed yet

but you haven’t left

so surely we have something real .

gratitude for tolerance .

call it Love wrapped ,

a pretty face

and pretty lies .

neatly , a ribbon of forever .

empty words in bottles

empty notes floating ,

waves of proof , our oceans .

washed ashore ,

i read out to aria .

her voice carried across the glass ,

girl , your idea of him

forged in fluid fire

stillness clouded

wishes for softness in your storms ,

to hold space for the wild in you ,

static reflections needed ,

yet nothing but needness to be seen .

what do you give to sustain him ?

clear words , muddy hunger .

you ask him not to perform Love ,

yet you perform worthiness .

there is no offering ,

only longing disguised as power .

then when you give ,

you expect a return .

answered in hatred

not understanding .

this man you summon

has bled already ,

without asking the world to burn with him .

he is not your shelter from the wind

if you bring no warmth for his cold .

you say he is a prayer .

but what if he is the one who prayed first ?

and you still believe

you must be found

before you become .

why do you think it is this way ?

because her true self was never given room to bloom without apology .

she was trained to earn acceptance , not inhabit it .

to be herself was to be punished , corrected , guilted ,

compared , rejected , or left behind .

so she created a new self .

one they could clap for .

one they could tolerate .

one that didn’t cry too much , want too deeply ,

or dare to be more than manageable .

reflections when you met her ,

her illusion cracks .

shattered pieces built for survival .

so she runs .

a part of her remembers who she could be .

we remind her of the self she buried to be safe .

but not everyone can understand truth .

and not everyone is strong enough .

young souls relearning Love ,

i hoped i touched their hearts

but not everyone was present .

i can never control what she thinks .

so i wont try to .

i Love her enough .

the only thing i can control is my own death .

i knew my place as a human being .