writing from the in-between of healing & hurting, softness & rage, silence & scream; this space is for the ghosts i carry, and the selves i’m still becoming.

010 | K

there are places i go
to remember i exist
and one of them has a name

it's not the forest
or the lake
or the fire
or even the bed i sleep in

her name is a weight and a shelter
it's a a tether and a door
it's the gravity that keeps me from drifting

her name is
a soft place to fall
a breath that lingers in the curve of my neck
a myth my body remembers

her name is the taste of the word “stay“

— and i carry it like a spine.

#poetry