the art of being unmade
my body moves before my soul
hands lift cups my legs walk streets
my mouth laughs at jokes that used to matter
my eyes follow suns that no longer warm me
i speak words that once meant everything
but they are hollow now, echoes in a canyon i left behind
my chest rises and falls like a drum
but the rhythm is empty
and the air tastes like someone else’s memory
i hear voices that i cannot answer
smile at faces that feel like paper
i remember nothing but the shape of myself
a shadow walking through a world that has already forgotten me
i lie in bed at night
listening to my own heartbeat
like it is a stranger pacing a room
and the darkness presses in
filling my ears with every laugh i will never hear again
every hand i will never hold
every word i will never speak
sometimes i catch myself reaching for someone
and my fingers find only air
and the panic is sharp, immediate, unbearable
like my skin is screaming for a soul it will never hold
and the cruelest part
the part that no one can prepare you for
is that the world goes on
as if i am still whole
while i am already unmade
my body a puppet
my mind a grave
and tonight i look into the mirror
and see my own eyes staring back
empty as a coffin
and i finally understand
that i am already dead
Copyright © addy raley | Year Posted 2025
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