…

I am tethered to a threshold made of mist and lead,

Caught between the silent earth and the life I’ve led.

I don’t crave the darkness, nor the quiet under stone,

I just want the noise to stop, the aching in the bone.

I want to wipe the slate clean, to wash away the years,

The heavy weight of memories, the suffocating fears,

The hands that left their shadows bruised upon my skin,

And the constant, tireful battle raging deep within.

To disappear sounds gentle, like a whisper in the night,

A way to drop the burden and surrender from the fight.

Yet dying isn't freedom—it’s just a final door,

And I am torn between the peace and what I’m staying for.

Because out beyond the ruin, where the ashes start to clear,

There are two distinct voices I still need to hear.

Two faces that can pull a sudden sunlight through the gray,

Two reasons that my heavy feet decide to stay today.

They bring a sudden lightness to a heart turned out of stone,

And remind me, for a second, that I’m not entirely alone.

I do not stay for promises, for glory, or for grace,

I stay to see the quiet joy upon their chosen face.

If I can bear the memories, the scars, the aching chest,

It’s only so their laughter finds a place to rest.

So I will hold the boundary line, though weary to the core,

And live for those two smiles until I can live for more.