No Soft Place to Land

A dark... a little dramatic, a little raw--but still me

No Soft Place to Land....

The night don't whisper- it presses.
Heavy like hands on my ribs,
like the past sitting shotgun
while I'm trying to drive forward.

I swear this life
has a sense of humor
and I'm always the punchline.

The walls in this room know my secrets.
They've heard the almost-breakdowns,
the "I'm fine" said too smooth,
the quiet clink of a glass
when I needed something
stronger than hope.

Love comes to me dressed pretty--
silver-tongued,
promising warmth-
but it leaves like winter
every single time.

And i'm left sweeping up frostbite ,
off the kitchen floor.
I don't fear ghosts, I carry mine.
They sit in my chest and hum old memories
like lullabies with teeth.

Still--
I wake up.

Still--
I breathe through the ache
like its a ritual.

Maybe I'm not haunted.
Maybe I'm just unapologetically alive
in a world that prefers quiet women
and easy endings.

But I am neither.

And if this is a price
for feeling everything-
then let the darkness know
I am not done yet.

It may press.
It may linger.

But I do not break softly.