M0NK

[image] Every addiction begins as a servant and ends as a #fiend. Mine arrived with good manners, asked little, and proved useful company on difficult nights. By the time I recognised the master, the servant had my keys. #vss365

[image] #forgiveness is the heart's consent not uttered first by tongue or mind. I know it when, recalling all, no ancient echo wakes behind. The thorn may linger in the flesh, yet cease to press, or to accuse; what I thought I must forgive becomes the grief I do not choose. #vss365

[image] The house had forgotten laughter long before it forgot the dead. Ivy rehearsed its slow conquest of the stone. Each autumn, one candle appeared in the upper window. No hand was seen to place it there. No hand was needed. Devotions survive their devotees, #evermore. #vss365

[image] Before they named me I was whole, no mixture, no conceit. #unalloyed, the unsplit soul the dark found fit to keep. They brought their remedies and left, the wound stayed what it was. I am the thing that owns its cleft, the silence and its cause. #vss365

[image] I don't write to find you. I know where you linger. No lighthouse steers your steps. You only see those who shine. I don't shine. If we meet again, I'll see through you as you see through me. When you quit coming, I gave up waiting. #poetry

[image] There is a kindness in between, the pause before the step. I stood where I had always been and found I had not left. The threshold asked for nothing more than that I know I'm here. I put my hand against the door and felt myself appear. #poetry

[image] Few of them land. Most evaporate before they reach anything. Rarely see the ones that fall. You find them later, in the cloth, in the grain, in the way a room smells after the unsaid finally leaves it. Words fall like rain. Only some of them find ground. #FoxProse @FoxProse

[image] #evenfall is the hour they keep, when shutters close and voices blend; they bless the dusk and call it sleep, as if all hungers found an end. I wait where no shadows stay; the night is deepest before dawn, when light arrives to strip away the dark the others carried on. #vss365

[image] Three crows on a gravestone. One flew away. Then another. The third remained until dark. #Quietus. Night took the witness. #vss365

[image] This stranded cord I won't cut; the fraying is its own rite now. Worn threads keep the wound half-shut, a knot in place of every vow. The frayed have ceremony: to hold what breaks, name who's gone. I tend the altar I have made of what we were, and carry on. #FoxProse @FoxProse

[image] Every morning the moon appeared in a different place. Rivers changed direction, names migrated between people while they slept. The only #novel thing was a book that stubbornly kept the same account of my life. #vss365

[image] I preferred the dark. It concealed unfinished things. At #dawn, every omission returned: the unanswered letter, the unpainted wall, the empty chair. Night forgives. Dawn keeps records. #vss365

[image] Who knows your secrets? No one, I used to think. Then I watched a stranger read my face before I spoke. Secrets leak. Into habits. Into posture. Into the words we avoid. By the time they reach language, they have usually been visible for years. #FoxProse @FoxProse

[image] Their divine prism splits the white of truth into what it conceals- colours bleed from single light, nothing whole survives the seals. I stood where the prism bends God's word to seven wounds- what enters whole the prism rends, truth comes in broken tunes. #FoxProse @FoxProse

[image] She didn't break it. Stone doesn't break that easily. It endures, indifferent, through all that softens saves. Fallen upon a heart of stone is to learn that cruelty doesn't require intent. The mountain never noticed. That was the worst of it. #fairytalepoets @fairytalepoets

[image] #fleeting brushed the windowpane, a moth-wing touch, a breath of rain; it lit the dust, then slipped away, and left the room to its decay. I raised my hand and caught a gleam already thinning into air; the world was whole within that seam, then ordinary everywhere. #vss365

[image] I have crossed oceans of time to find the shore where all I was has gone. Waves have taken what was mine; and grasp at what the tide moved on. The self I was grows hard to name; the mirror holds a stranger's face. I fed the dark, and it became the only thing that knows my place.

[image] #midnight is an audit. The noise has closed for business. No meetings remain, no errands, no excuses. The mind opens the ledger and begins itemizing the day: what was done, what was avoided, and what can no longer be blamed on lack of time. #vss365

[image] What leaves me #haunted has no face, no grave, no mark of where it laid; it is the outline of a place I nearly reached before it frayed. The unlived life needs no permission, it comes unbid, it knows the door; I am its only exhibition, the house it haunts forevermore. #vss365

[image] The last breath keeps its slow rite; it will not hurry, will not mourn. To exhale and release the night is all that dying has sworn. I watched from inside the vast; the world grew quiet, then clear. What extinction takes at last is everything that was here. #FoxProse @FoxProse

[image] Everyone she loved had a talent for it. The clean exit, the upward angle, gone before you could name what was left. She stood in the same place for years. Watched them fly. The sky never once looked back. They did not, either. #Amatory @Amatoryq

[image] The deed listed measurements, boundaries, and rights of way. It accounted for every wall, window, and acre. Yet none of it explained why the rooms felt familiar as I crossed the threshold. Some inheritances arrive as property. Others arrive as #mother. #vss365

[image] #thief came dressed in my own face, knew too well what it should take; a touch, a room, scent of lace, the small mistakes we did not make. He left watches on the shelf, rings, letters, and the grief; only stole my former self and locked the years beyond belief. #vsstimetravel

[image] The flint arrowhead fits my thumb exactly. Thousands of years between us, yet the maker's hand had measured the same grip, the same instinctive curl of the fingers. #primitive suddenly seemed the wrong word. Familiar was closer. #vss365

[image] Wishes at moonlight come most clear to those the daylight hours worn- not grand, just less the weight of fear, just less than torn. No moon has ever known to give the wish the damaged bring at night- it shows them only how to live inside its light. #Amatory @Amatoryq