I stand here, words torn from my chest, surrounded by shadows in places where light was, faces that twist, that stare, silent but knowing. They don’t speak; they don’t need to. I’m holding onto threads, fingers slipping from the warmth I knew when I was small, a warmth you placed in me like a secret, a quiet ember in a roaring, dark world. I reach deep, beyond where voices fade, where silence is louder than any scream. I have come here, bearing all that’s left, with nothing but the pulse beneath my ribs. This, my only offering, my broken whisper, as I look beyond where eyes can reach- you will hear it, somehow, you must hear, even though you’re nameless, faceless. For love, for the memory of what I know I hold, I give you this voice, stripped bare, for them, for us, for the promise, for something worth more than this ruin around us. And if you answer, if you move in the unseen, I will feel it, I will know it by the trembling air, by the lifting weight, by the soft touch of what was given to me so long ago, something pure, undiminished. Save them, save the part of me that believes, and let this song, small as it is, be enough to hold against the tide for just one breath longer, one more heartbeat.
I stand here, words torn from my chest,
surrounded by shadows in places where light was,
faces that twist, that stare, silent but knowing.
They don’t speak; they don’t need to.
I’m holding onto threads, fingers slipping
from the warmth I knew when I was small,
a warmth you placed in me like a secret,
a quiet ember in a roaring, dark world.
I reach deep, beyond where voices fade,
where silence is louder than any scream.
I have come here, bearing all that’s left,
with nothing but the pulse beneath my ribs.
This, my only offering, my broken whisper,
as I look beyond where eyes can reach-
you will hear it, somehow, you must hear,
even though you’re nameless, faceless.
For love, for the memory of what I know I hold,
I give you this voice, stripped bare,
for them, for us, for the promise,
for something worth more than this ruin around us.
And if you answer, if you move in the unseen,
I will feel it, I will know it by the trembling air,
by the lifting weight, by the soft touch of what was given
to me so long ago, something pure, undiminished.
Save them, save the part of me that believes,
and let this song, small as it is,
be enough to hold against the tide
for just one breath longer, one more heartbeat.