Will you halt this eclipse in me?

I touch what I love

and it splits at the seams.

Like silk held in stormlight—

too fragile for my heat.

I never meant to bleed on everything,

but my hands have mouths

and they’re always starving.

I don’t know how to be touched

without shattering.

I don’t know how to be seen

without disappearing.

So write it down

the damage report,

chalk outlines of everything

I swore I’d never break.

Am I the flood or the vessel?

Am I the ghost or the ache?

I watch them blink in slow retreat—

those who once reached for me.

Like I loved too loud.

Like I needed too long.

But I only ever wanted

someone to stay

and not vanish

when the dark came,

not protest when the lighting flashed.

They call it ruin,

missing pieces of Self

every time I chose love

with trepidation.

Of every time I stayed

when the silence

was deafening.

Am I still breathing

in the aftermath?

Still praying

my daughter never learns

to measure her worth

like I do

I am the storm.

When will the rain fall softly?

Let me fall into hands

that don’t flinch.

Let someone, someday,

call the wreckage

beautiful.

I’m sorry

for all I’ve ruined.

I never meant to be this broken.

I just…

don’t know how

to hold anything

without shaking.