“𝐻𝑜𝓁𝓁𝑜𝓌 𝐸𝒸𝒽𝑜𝑒𝓈 𝒾𝓃 𝒶 𝒱𝒶𝒸𝒶𝓃𝓉 𝑀𝒾𝓃𝒹”

𝒮𝑜𝓊𝓁𝓁𝑒𝓈𝓈 𝑀𝒾𝓃𝒹𝓈

I walk through the corridors of myself
like a stranger trespassing in an abandoned house
dust thick on the memory frames,
floorboards groaning like they remember
what I forgot.

My heart
if you can still call it that
beats like a tired machine,
metal on metal,
no warmth behind the rhythm,
only the insistence of survival.
It’s cracked straight down the middle
like a fault line
waiting for the next tremor
to split it open for good.

And my mind…
my mind is a hollow cathedral,
all vault and no prayer,
all ceiling and no sky.
Thoughts drift through it
like orphaned ghosts
searching for a home
inside walls that can’t hold anything
for long.

I’m suspended here
not falling, not rising,
just hovering
in that cold space
between emotion and absence.
A void wide enough
to swallow every word I should’ve said,
every touch I never felt,
every version of me
that never learned how to stay whole.

The world calls this numbness a quiet,
but it’s louder than grief
a roar shaped like nothing,
a scream that never forms sound,
a silence that presses its thumb
into the soft part of the soul
until it leaves a bruise.

Some days,
I tap the walls of my chest
just to see if they still echo.
Some nights,
I hold my breath
to check whether anything inside
still moves.

And maybe one day
the cracks will let the light in
or maybe they’ll just widen
until I’m all fracture, all fault line,
a blueprint of brokenness
that no architect ever meant to build.

But for now,
I remain
a soulless heart,
a hollow mind,
hanging weightless in the void,
listening to the rhythm
of everything I’ve lost…
and everything
I never had the chance
to feel.