Ghosts of the Given

I am not angry, I’m just done.  
A smile persists where fractures creep.  
This hollow skin feels battles won,
a counterfeit of wounds too deep.  

A smile persists where fractures creep,  
layers worn thin under unseen weight.  
A counterfeit of wounds too deep,  
isolation whispers: quiet is fate.  

Layers worn thin under unseen weight,  
to carry love where none remains.  
Isolation whispers: quiet is fate,
a ghost reborn from vanished names.  

To carry love where none remains,  
each promise falters, each vow confined.  
A ghost reborn from vanished names,
eyes read truth; trust left behind.  

Each promise falters, each vow confined.  
This hollow skin feels battles won.  
Eyes read truth; trust left behind.  
I am not angry, I’m just done.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2026

Poem

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