When feeling leaves without farewell,
it does not always die.
Sometimes it buries itself
beneath the weight of what the mind
could not afford to know.
The heart becomes a quiet room.
Its furniture remains,
yet no one sits within it.
Joy knocks softly at the door,
grief follows close behind,
and both depart unanswered.
We call this emptiness,
though it is crowded
with forgotten voices,
childhood shadows,
and love that learned to wear a mask.
The soul does not become stone.
It becomes winter—
waiting beneath frozen ground
for a season it cannot imagine,
yet has never truly forgotten.
And when at last one tear escapes,
it is not weakness speaking.
It is memory
finding the courage
to become alive again.
Why do you seek booze?
To numb pain – reality
Gives it all for free.
Crystaldj
June 2026
I think the first sign, at least to my mother,
was at the age of five
when I broke half the bones in my right hand
and did not shed a single tear.
I did not even pause long enough
for the pain to be considered an event.
I simply carried on with my day,
until she noticed the unusual swelling softening
the lines of my delicate hand.
She searched my face for agony -
for some proof that I remained tethered
to the ordinary laws of suffering.
But I only watched the swelling bloom beneath my skin,
with the detached curiosity
of a child watching daisies open in a spring field.
She stared at me then,
as though she had glimpsed something
standing behind my eyes:
a creature that had learned to consume pain
as casually as sugar dissolves on the tongue.
Perhaps the fracture was indistinguishable
from what I had already been taught to endure,
Perhaps it was far easier to bear
than the violence that lived unspoken within my mind.
Or perhaps it was simpler still:
I no longer found difference between agony and living.
One did not interrupt the other.
They had learned to coexist —
indistinguishable,
unremarkable,
one.
After you, the air itself became carnivorous.
Like swallowing knives where the blood spilled within.
The body survives by reminding itself that
this is the only home that will ever shelter it.
Some nights, I hear myself scratching on my own walls,
behind the plaster, like a buried saint.
My love for you has not left; it had merely rotted,
sweet as fruit collapsing under flies.
Numbness is not resurrection,
neither is survival absolution.
But this emptiness in me is honest in ways you ever were:
it asks for nothing except its full weight.
So I entered it willingly, at last,
a dead star learning how to finally collpase -
embrace the void.
What are feelings for, I ask the night,
why do they burn so sharp and bright?
Why give a heart the will to care
if pain is always waiting there?
What are emotions meant to do
when all they seem to do is bruise?
They rise like storms inside my chest,
then leave my thoughts in such a mess.
Why give us love that breaks in two?
Why trust a heart that once was true?
Why let hope begin to grow
if loss is all we come to know?
For a while I thought the cure
was building walls that would endure—
to silence every fragile part
and lock away my stubborn heart.
But empty rooms are cold and wide,
and quiet echoes live inside.
No joy can bloom where none remain,
when we erase both love and pain.
So maybe feelings serve a role—
to wake the beating of the soul.
For though they hurt and make us bend,
they help our broken hearts to mend.
And maybe every tear we cry
is proof our hearts are still alive—
because a life that feels the sting
can also feel the joy love brings.
it starts
when you’re too small to reach the light switch—
the yelling,
the slaps that come out of nowhere,
the way you learn early
that silence is safer than truth.
they tell you
“be strong,”
“be good,”
“sit still,”
while their own hands tremble from last night’s bourbon.
you grow up watching hypocrisy
wear a necktie.
school’s no better—
they call it “discipline,”
but it’s just another kind of cage.
they make you memorize names of kings
while your own father forgets yours.
they grade you on obedience
and call it learning.
by the time you’re grown,
you’ve learned that nobody listens
unless you’re perfect—
and perfection’s a currency
you never had.
so you find a drink,
a pill,
a something
that doesn’t grade you,
doesn’t shout,
just hums quietly in your bloodstream
and says,
“you’re alright for now.”
we don’t turn to the bottle
or the needle
because we love destruction—
we turn to them
because they’re the only things
that don’t lie.
they let you rest,
for a few hours,
in a world
that stopped being gentle
a long damn time ago.
She always hated the sight of blood
But now it had become her greatest comfort
She felt her blood was the only one who understood
What it was like to be judged
Both hated on for their colour
Both wanting to be hidden
Both wanting to be invisible
Each cut sent waves of euphoria throughout her body
She wasn't a masochist
She just loved being in control
It was a distraction
From all the racists
Who consistently punished her
For her skin colour
She didn't know if she could deal with it anymore
She didn't want to be here no more
She had always wondered about life after death
What would happen?
Would she finally find peace?
Or would she forever carry the weight of her race for eternity?
All she wanted was to exist
Without being discriminated against
Without someone bullying her for her skin colour
She was tired
Whilst she was stuck in her mind
She hadn't realised
How deep she had cut
She saw how much blood she had lost
She wasn't sad
She was just numb
The last thing she thought of before she succumbed
Was freedom
Slept throughout the day,
Feels like I’ve slept through my life.
Wide awake I lay—
It’s just that kind of night.
I've become a spectator of my own life,
Not a wink, even though I’ve turned off the light.
Switching postures, counting sheep,
Tried every last bit—
I guess it’s just those kinds of night.
I'm not living in the past,
Or in the present, for that matter.
Tried everything to feel alive,
But the hour I’m thinking all this… isn’t quite right.
I understand now—
It’s just those kinds of night.
Leaving
behind silence,
it’s absence over ice;
I crave impassioned dynamite;
Settle?
We only get to do life once,
don’t tolerate numbness;
Bend the knee to
wildfire.
Feeling My Numbness taking a toll on me
Feeling My Numbness taking a toll on my
My mind, body and soul,
Feeling My Numbness taking me afar from here
Feeling My Numbness is scaring me within
Feeling my numbness
That no one sees
Feeling my numbness that lead my road
This way of confusion yet finding a solution
Feeling my numbness
Lead me who I am today
Feeling my numbness
Lead me to strength
Faith I never believed in
Yet Faith is all I had to stand on
Feeling my numbness’s lead a lot of pain
Feeling my numbness
Getting myself out the dark
Picking myself up
Wiping the dust off my shoulders
Wiping my face
Holding my head up high
Smiling through the aches
Praying for a better days!
My numbness I feel inside
I never let it change or defined me…
If we have our heads
Sleeping on our arms
A tingling numbness
Spreads through our hand
Its uncomfortable
We shake our hand
Till the feelings gone
Then we return to sleep
Title; "Chasing Little Joys"
For quite some time now, I've become desensitized to my challenges
to the reality of my existence.
I've been holding on to any moments of joy that provide relief
even if it's just for a few minutes in order to drown out the constant ache in my heart.
Sleep has become my way to numb myself.
It transports me to a realm,
where I can shield myself from the demands and pressures of the world.
Life, a maze filled with unknowns, is filled with ups and downs,
laughter and tears, love and heartbreaks.
No matter how tightly you try to control it,
everything twists. Turns lie ahead, both delightful and devastating.
Amid it all, show yourself grace and love
And perhaps, just perhaps, brighter days will eventually dawn.
I can't claim numbness, for I feel every feeling in its raw form
I wonder if I'll ever stop chasing those moments of joy,
since sad days are inevitable at the end of the day.
The Echoes of a Heart That Feels...
Can anyone die of sadness
Like a disease feasting on life from inside
I wish and wonder often
When will these blues come to the shore to drown me finally
Why am I a weightless cloud staying afloat still
Drastically heavy with rain of pain
Darkness is my sanctuary
where emptiness is my only friend
No matter, night or day
I am a prey
To numbness - which leaves me astrayed
I know no language to talk to my demons here
Because my words are exhausted
So I want to rest forever
and forget everyone's names
Will God care enough to embrace me, when no one else did?
~Ayesh
You don't know
How deep I go
How low I spiral down
You cannot see
That part of me
That somehow needs to drown
You cannot hear
My cry of fear
To face another day
You try to care
But I'm not there
I've somehow gone away
Inside my head
Already dead
Numbness my surround
I can't be reached
My mind is breached
Beneath me is no ground
But I can't seem to go
And I don't really know
What keeps me here in pain
And as I come back
The tears make a track
As they pour like heavy rain
To wet my face
As I wonder at grace
That has saved me one more time
What is it holds me here
Though still living in fear
One forward step is mine
What is this I feel
Holds like bands of steel
When my choice is to leave this pain
But something stops me going
Though the wish is ever growing
To never open my eyes again
Too many hard memories
Too many weird remedies
How am I supposed to cope
To get through the day
The only way
Is to take their chemical dope
So I continue to live
And of myself I give
In the hope that I can change
To somehow help you
And see you through
And halt my own mad derange.
"Every struggle in my life has been a lesson and made me stronger"
Quote by_ Constance La France
I wish my smile could drown your thoughts of attempting to kill me.
For my laugh to awaken your desires to pursue me, as opposed to seeking advice from past flames to put me out.
I needed you to come back to me.
See me in new ways.
Love me with a healed heart, saved from past pain.
I was hoping you've changed.
Ready to upgrade your old habits with thought processed intent.
Here I am thinking you'd really want us to be. You and me, finally.
Yet, you've built problems anew,
situations I can't ignore.
mishaps or mistakes blinding the truth,
you have always been this rude.
I've kept another version of you,
and yet, I'm the one who's confused...
15 November 2022
'Writing Challenge - V forms' Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Constance La France
Theme ~ Introspection
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