Bleeding Truth, Learning to Feel

I built my house from borrowed light, from promises that couldn't stay.

I named my fears, I fed them hope, then watched them

rot me from the inside out. I learned to smile like I was healed

to speak in calm, controlled replies. But every word I swallowed whole

is screaming louder in my chest at night. I carry ghosts in living skin.

They breathe when I pretend I don't. I've made a home inside the

ache. It knows my name, it won't let go.

I'm tired of being almost fine, of stitching cracks with shallow lies. If this is