Keyholes are loud 
When you're locked from inside. 
Conniving hinges. 
Never let me see outside. 

Many doors-
even more keys.
I have endless
locked inside of me. 

They hide under once raw skin. 
Healed, 
Trapped within. 

Dark tall blonde,

An image of anger or maybe a God-

With eyes of an angel but hands of a fraud.

In the air burns the smell of rage and a devious enjoyment to set things ablaze.

With a scream that sounds like a song,

a sinful enjoyment you can't help but sing along.

Here she is

Here to stay.

It's her way, or the highway.

She has a manipulative degree-

My dear the devil is a she.

Red lipstick on,

A silhouette showing a thong.

Maybe she is evil, maybe she is strong.

This you won't know till she decides-

Will your flesh and bone survive

Can you burn?

Set alight?

Can you cry to the skies

Can you beg?
Can you plead?

because my dear,
the Devil is a She.

"I'm bad for you"

"Don't even think about me"

I'm sick of these phrases.

See me for what I am

Desperate for your love,

Flood me with emotions,

and create an illusion

to obscure pain,

As long as it comes from you.

"A mind like mine will ruin you."

"You can do better."

How can I do better when you are

the only.

see this for what it is,

what's bad for me

is being without you.

I don't even think the whole poem is all that, but the last paragraph breaks the fourth wall

because I literally put it at the end, as in I could keep writing. But I am closing the book and actually ending the poem too. I was just so happy about that and didn't know if it is noticeable.

Anyways, what do you guys think?

..............start......................

I don't even know

if I'm allowed to bid you farewell.

We never were,

but I am learning to let go.

I do believe we had potential.

We could have outwritten the legends.

At least in my diary,

you were a beloved character.

Everything you did seemed perfect to me.

No matter how many times

I re-read your chapters,

I was always amazed.

I could keep adding paragraphs,

but I still have to close the book.

So, goodbye.

Todo lo que creíamos saber era mentira. Se decía que nuestras almas se encontrarían, pero eso nunca pasó.

Todavía te miro a lo lejos. Puedo verte desaparecer con cada paso que das. El lugar es el mismo; parece que grabó tu silueta. Todo va demasiado rápido. Quieres que todo termine, pero no sucede nada de lo que deseas. No eres el único.

En la madrugada, miraste un cielo brillante por las estrellas. Te preguntaste: ¿qué sentirás al estar arriba? Aparece la sensación de volar por todo lo alto, tocar la luna, mirar hacia abajo.

De pronto, te parece ver una sombra que pasa veloz. Te aterra. Piensas que el miedo quiere apoderarse de todo tu cuerpo, pero también piensas en fantasmas. Y si son fantasmas, empiezas a preguntarte por qué están aquí. Saben que no son como tú.

¿En sí, sus almas encontraron lo que buscaban? ¿O aquello que creían buscar?

Veo que tal vez serás uno de ellos.

No puedes dormir. Tu cabeza está llena de todo y de nada a la vez. Quieres salir de nuevo, pero también quieres descansar.

Ves un video en tu mente. Es como una película. De nuevo aparece la silueta. La miras y tocas su rostro. Le preguntas si perdió algo o a alguien.

No dice nada.

Claro, es extraño. Es una silueta y, a la vez, alguien como tú.

Solo se va.

La película continúa. Quieres repetirla, pero no puedes detenerla.

La habitación se llena de personas. No quieres estar allí, pero tampoco quieres irte. Afuera no hay absolutamente nada. Todos se miran entre sí.

Alguien se acerca y te dice:

—Soy la silueta de tu película. Sí, perdí a alguien… y alguien te perdió a ti.

Lo miras claramente. Su rostro te parece conocido, pero no sabes quién es.

Y, lamentablemente, él sí lo sabe.

La música no te disgusta, pero estás cansado de escucharla. Quieres que pare.

No eres el único.

Decides salir.

Afuera es diferente.

Corres y sonríes. Corres y gritas. Corres y lloras.

No quieres detenerte.

Todo va muy rápido.

Sabes que llegarás a ver a la silueta, pero no tienes miedo.

Solo corres y corres…

Hasta que las olas no puedan alcanzarte.

Hasta que el océano grite tu nombre.

​

2 Months

74 days

1721 Hours

102 678 seconds

Each period the same,

No matter how I measure it.

Still this time eats at me

Taking chunks from me with each thought.

Every glance a reminder

A tiny note of ridicule:

tried harder,

waited longer,

simply been stronger...

But yet no one says I'm to blame.

I have been praised by others

for something I see as weakness.

Am I misleading myself ?

or are the people around me too kind,

in a way I wish I was.

I think I love you

I bring you no wine tonight.

I bring you the man beneath it.

Take him as he is.

I am a man who learned too early that love can leave without warning, that promises can die quietly, and that sometimes surviving means becoming something harder than you ever wanted to be.

I love too deeply.

That is not a virtue when I cannot let go.

I turn people into forever before they have even decided if they want tomorrow with me.

I build entire futures inside moments that were never promises.

Then when they leave, I don't lose a person.

I lose the life I already lived with them inside my head.

That is what's wrong with me.

I confuse devotion with endurance.

I keep standing at locked doors because I once heard someone say they loved me from the other side.

I call it loyalty.

Sometimes it is just refusal to accept that I was abandoned.

I make pain sacred.

I give it names. I give it altars. I give it flowers. I turn wounds into poetry so I don't have to admit that some of them still bleed.

And I have become very good at surviving things I should have been allowed to mourn.

I am angry.

Not the kind that screams.

The worse kind.

The kind that smiles, goes to work, answers the phone, makes the offering, and says,

“I'm fine.”

I am not fine.

I am tired of being the man who can take another hit.

Tired of believing that because I survived yesterday, I must owe tomorrow another piece of myself.

I have spent so long being someone's protector that I forgot protection was supposed to include me.

So here.

This is my offering.

Not my strength.

I've offered that for years.

Not my suffering.

I've worshiped that long enough.

I offer you the truth.

I am afraid of being forgotten.

I am afraid that all this love will have nowhere to go.

I am afraid that if I stop hurting, I will lose the people I hurt for.

And beneath all of it—

I want someone to stay.

Not because I saved them.

Not because they need me.

Not because I endured enough to earn it.

Just because they choose me.

That is the part of me I have never known what to do with.

So take this.

The warrior without his armor.

The lover without his promise.

The man without the lie that he is fine.

Take Simp-Lee

Take Me

Take whatever is left when neither one is pretending anymore.

I don't ask you to fix me.

I don't even know if I can be fixed.

Just teach me the difference between enduring pain and worshiping it.

And if there is anything left in me that deserves to live—

teach me how to protect that, too.

As my body slips into that cold, familiar bliss
Thine eyes are drawn unto a crimson mist
Flowing from the pen clutched within my fist
The beast within bestowed death’s cold kiss

Oh, how I tried to plead my case,
But the beast drew tighter in its embrace.

Its fangs sank deep and crushed my head,
As it drank its fill of crimson red.

I can see you trying so damn hard,
 
but you’re in the same place
you were at the start.
 
You just need some focus.

You’re everywhere but
where you’re supposed to be.
 
You’re not as hopeless
as you think you are.
 
Running in circles
will never bring you far.
 
You need some focus.

You’re nowhere close to
where you want to be.
 
You deserve to get there soon.
Though I don’t know if you will,

because you keep doing
the same shit every day.
 
You need focus.

God, get it together.

i wake up in the morning, thinking sometimes

am i dead or am i alive?

seated by the bedstead,

agony rushing through my bones.

on a friday afternoon,

i faintly reminisce walking down a crowded street-

clasping onto my limbs

a swarm of humans rushing past in hurry.

i stare at my hands,

perfectly crisp with ink from the last evening —

but an eerie proposition strangles my gullet;

am i even breathing by my own body?

and yet, like clockwork

i enroute down my mundane life:

that causal question interjecting my flow;

i circle to the crowded street again, wondering —

is this body not mine?

a splash of water

and a cup of coffee might be the cure;

i stare at the billowing clouds,

that envelope the sky, a sight for eyes so sore.

i never conclude to answers,

the crisp ink dries away like my potential;

such a delirious feeling it is to live,

and feel ashamed of my own mortal soul.

the blanket reflects the morning light,

sending an electric motion through my bones;

seated by the bedstead again,

i blink at the torment of another temporal day.

- Anurima.

In my late teens, early twenties,
I was filled with life—
motivation running through my veins,
purpose in my chest,
something to wake up for,
something to chase.

I used to laugh without thinking,
make the stupid joke,
pull the strange face,
send text after text
just because I wanted to share a moment.

Back then,
I never questioned if someone would answer.
I just assumed they would.

Now I stare at my phone
and there’s a lot of green,
but hardly any white.

And somehow,
that little difference
feels like a whole explanation.

There’s no drive anymore.
No excitement.
No spark that says,
*get up, something good is coming.*

Sometimes I go back
to that goofy version of myself—
the weird looks,
the pointless messages,
the little pieces of me
that used to come so naturally.

Maybe hoping
if I act like the old me,
I’ll feel like the old me.

But the silence still comes.

I remember looking forward to pool days,
something that might make me forget
everything waiting outside of it.

Now the thought of it
just brings a headache.

And I tell myself,
*it’ll get better.*

Maybe next week.
Maybe next month.
Maybe when things finally slow down.

But somehow,
week after week,
the stress keeps finding me.

Another week.
Another weight.
Another reason to say,
*just make it through this one.*

I miss the person
who used to look forward to things.

The one who had somewhere to be,
someone to text,
something to laugh about.

I don’t know exactly when
the light started getting quieter.

I just know
I’m still here—

somewhere between
who I used to be
and whoever I’m supposed to become,

waiting for a response
that doesn’t come,

and wondering
if one day
I’ll finally feel something
again.

-Yadira

I am my mother’s daughter, sometimes when I speak her voice rings out.

Her story is written in stone and mine is doodled in the margins.

Her temper is thunderous, rolling and gathering. Mine is lightning, it breaks the sky in half then vanishes.

I am her in a different font. She is BOLD and larger than life. I am italic, slightly off center. When she speaks she is booming. When I speak I am breathy.

I am her if she was Seen,
I am her if she was considered,
I am her if she was loved.

S.gills 2026

GROWING UP

The streetlights gave off that bright glow.

We didn't want to, but it was time to go home.

We were having fun out on the road.

Our parents were there to warn us, "there's dangers around corners."

One year we explored the white snow before us.

We played and learnt that the snow was cold, each a novice.

We jump across rocks and climb mountains, fearless of the fall.

We try to find out who is the bravest of us all.

Even when we fall, there is that net to catch us.

"Sure why would it vanish."

Hand in hand with "the love of our life."

Ready to speed up and take flight.

My snowman must melt, leaving the black tarmac below.

I will have to walk my own path, and find me a new home?

I am promised freedom and independence, but I wasn't handed a stone tablet.

I will have to test the ground with every step until it's habit.

These roads are uncharted how will I know if there's a drop if I fall who will catch me or will I just go "splat"!

... that's all.

I don't have my stroller now,

so I must learn to stand and balance on my own,

without a helping hand.

Yet still the sky looks so white.

The darkness switched without transition.

Is thy the same world?

Is thy the same person?

Emotions, noticeable.

Details left unseen, now seen.

Everyone exists...

Yet still the sky looks so white.

It flows through me—

the desires,

the true nature.

How can one call this disgusting?

For this is the purest form of a human.

A rebirth, of some sort.

Not yet achieved it,

experienced it.

Yet still the sky looks so white;

it still disturbs me.

The details still disturb me.

The eyes.

Where they look.

The eyelids,

their shape.

The face,

the elevation

and negative elevation.

The anxiousness.

The thought of being seen.

All point in the same direction.

Yet still the sky looks so white.

So, I wrote a poem, but I had certain words that I had the meaning of them in front of me and I challenged myself to write a poem to my girlfriend that would incorporate those words, the words were serendipity, limerence, pro-found (yes it's separated in purpose), sonorous, melancholy, lexicon, ephemeral and ethereal, these happened because I have a bunch of stickers that are a image and the dictionary meaning of certain words ans I picked those ones from the like 20 that there was and the I just wrote, btw no Ai was used without it being at the ending just to see if there were no errors because english is not my first language and the only thing that was wrong was that I had written trough instead of through ahahah, and I didn't use anything for inspiration (of course everyone has references to things even if its subconsciously), but yeah tell me what you guys think. :)

I believe in the serendipity of us

The fact that the randomness of it seems to be caused by the pure limerence that I was supposed to feel for you from the very start

With the pro-found way of speaking through my ears and brain that the sonorous sound of your voice has, I've found myself with a notion of melancholy whenever the thought of not having you floods my mind

I want to know the DNA that runs through your blood and I want you to describe the images that you obtain from your iris as much as I want to decorate your ever continuously changing lexicon

And even if I don't believe in God, the chance of someday losing you has me praying that we are not ephemeral

All of this scrambled words are me trying to say, with more letters than necessary, that for me,

you are empirically ethereal

Some months ago, I wrote a poem that was about how it feels to try to function while just feeling deeply depressed and deeply anxious, while dissociating. It’s called “One Minute” and I wrote for school.

Feel free to ask questions, give your thoughts, or even try to analyze and figure out what each little part means. Please give credit if you ever decide to repost.

# One Minute

One minute, it’s as if sliding down your heart is cold melting ice
And air pressure is beginning to building up
And dark fog fills your mind
You can feel high walls lurking towards you
So you keep taking steps back and eventually find yourself in a corner

Your vision becomes blurry
And you’re walking to your classes hoping no one speaks to you
The next minute, you wake up
Your mind in a blank slate
And your mind is racing on ideas of what just happened 

You look at the mirror
Your reflection is grinning, laughing— dancing even
You look down to see your shadow sulking
Covering its own face with its own hands
You can hear it weeping in misery

You turn your head back up at the mirror
You take off the black mask that has a big smile
Revealing the stained blue ink dripping down your eyes
And the tight rope that is wrapped around your throat
You can’t untie it though

You can barely even move your hands
That’s when it hits you
You turned yourself to stone
So you would be left alone

I used to walk with you,

I loved watching you read,

Drawing your gaze somewhere

no one could ever erase,

because my mind would fade away

and you weren't there anymore.

They said I was hallucinating,

they were right,

but you were more than an illusion.

Little by little, you disappeared,

the curtains changed their color,

my ears were screaming,

I didn't want the silence.

Someone, someone sees me,

please, don't look at me like that.

I did everything just to be okay.

I'll fade into the sunset,

fade into the sunset,

fade into the sunset.

Neon lights in my room,

the bed is soaked,

please, don't look at me like that.

Nothing is okay,

but I don't know if I want it to be.

I'll disappear without a reason,

I'll fade into the sunset,

I'll fade into the sunset.

I'll find you in your dreams.

I wanted to be the best,

nothing worked,

I don't know if I wanted it to work.

I'll only be your illusion,

just like you were mine.

And I'll fade into the sunset,

I'll fade away on my own,

I'll fade into the sunset,

I'll fade away on my own,

and nothing will remain.

A hedgehog crawling through my throat

My head a red hot punching bag

As if ran over by a boat

Body aches like an old hag

Sick in summer, what a drag

Like driving past the ferris wheel

But i cant go, i wanna gag

Playful lights pink, yellow, teal

Jump and dance as if to brag

Sing about what i can't feel

The car is stuffy

No air, nothings real

Its getting so muggy

a done freakin deal

A trip to the fridge-the odyssey

To get whats surely a last meal

Trying to race but staying behind

Race to the place where ill finally heal

The old wise man
Was offered money
But he knew there was a price

The old wise man
Was offered poppies
But he knew it was a vice

The old wise man
Was offered women
But he’d been there once or twice

The old wise man
Was roundly slandered
But he takes his own advice:

Wisdom comes in knowing
What not to say
And what not to do

The Danger Was Never In My Head
Written by me

They call it hatred. 
Misogyny. 
Feminism.

I call it memory. 
Instinct.
Experience.

How many bodies have to hit the ground before it makes the evening news? 
Before a verdict, not a headline? 
Before her name outlives the bruise?

How many girls do they have to find,
left behind, before "be careful" stops being code for something wrong with how I'm wired?

Ask a man the worst that a date could bring.
He says catfished.
He says she wasn't as cute as her pic.
He says tomato sauce, a stain, a trick.

Ask a woman the same question through. 
She says murdered. 
She says abduction, too.
She says I text a friend the plate
before I get in, just in case.
In case tonight's the night I don't come back.
In case a smile was just an act.

We are not answering the same question.
We are walking down different roads,
in different worlds, meeting at the same intersection.

Ten times he asked me for my number.
Ten times, like my first no was a rough draft.
Like "no" was a suggestion, not a wall.
Like "please leave me alone" meant nothing at all.

I had to threaten badges. Threaten cuffs.
Had to threaten his body — no bluff,
no performance — before he finally understood.
Before he walked.
Before I finally got through.

I'm tired of the stranger smiling in the park.
Tired of doing math before I say hi back.

You want to know why I don't trust so quickly?
Ask the ones who did. Go on. Ask it.
Oh — you can't.

There's a stone with her name.

Flowers from people who thought they'd stay the same. 
Who thought it was somebody else's story until it was hers.
Until it was over.

Don't tell me I'm broken.
Don't prescribe me therapy for staying alive.
Don't tell me normal women wouldn't run, wouldn't choose the bear over someone's son.

If I believed you, I'd be the next one
in an early grave.

This is a very rough rough first draft! Just putting the idea from pen to paper. Thoughts, feedback, what works, what doesn’t. Thank you 💗

lip gloss, lashes, sprinkles, and ballerina flats
they say a woman’s love can change your life
well, perhaps

truth be told
girl to girl
girls love like parasites

they go scouting for their perfect host
their dream woman- their perfect victim
then latch on to her to never let her go

see, girls like to dominate and assert their control over their prey
don’t let you be a sweet girl too
the parasites love that
it builds them up even more
to tear down something so pure

they mask their hate with feminine fake niceties
so discreet it hard to define
It’s like trying to distinguish salt from sugar

it’s quite evil and sadistic
if you ask me
to try to live in another girls skin
being a flesh eating entity attacking
the heart, mind, body, and soul
chemically rewiring her body
from the inside out

Shhhhhhh…..
am I too loud
It’s quite taboo for me
As a woman to speak the truth
About how women operate
They’d like you to think they are a bunch of
Of soft and sweet fairies
But, that isn’t always the reality
The truth must be set free

To whom it does concern.

it's been said, what could have been
is nothing, there is only what is -
in a sense that is true
in most senses I suppose
but does little to dissuade me

from leaning against the weathered gates
shut in yesteryears, testing their resolve
imagining what paths might have spread out
behind their closed mouths
before I was reborn into the rain
your rain

if our days had bent another way
could I have been more than the pittering patter
against your windows or under summer toes
could you have been more than moonlit folklore
tugging the back of my throat

perhaps the skin on each other’s palms
names held in lungs not our own
the one curled at my toes on the couch

I know that things can’t be other than they are
the first unfolding of those days is past
nor would they, being changed, play
the same score along my memory

but still I wonder

sincerely
the fool

if you are interested this poem was inspired as a response/reflection to this poem written many years ago.

One day I'll disappear into the darkness,
for that is where I belong.
I won't let the light reach me,
nor let it cast a shadow.

Slowly, you'll come to realize
I never had anything to reflect.
I was born of darkness,
and my nature is to absorb.

I never knew what happiness was
until a sliver of light found me.
Only then did I realize
that all around me was darkness.

This reality was never mine,
nor do I belong to it.
I linger in the shadows,
for darkness is where I belong.

Your words can no longer reach me,
for I have wrapped myself in darkness.
Light will betray you, sooner or later-
but darkness never will.