I’m happy now, can you believe?
No storm clouds pacing up the hall.
The ache is quieter these days,
and nothing’s waiting for me to fall.

But I’m not completely there just yet,
my joy still comes with quiet terms.
It hinges on the plans I’ve made,
the bridges built, the dreams I’ve earned.

The future holds its breath with me,
I pray the stars will guide me through.
Because I am happy, yes, it’s true,
but I want that happiness with you.

Some nights I close my eyes and see
your arms, my home, soft, strong, and wide.
The place where all the noise will hush,
and I’ll no longer need to hide.

I'm scared, I won’t pretend I'm not.
My joy still trembles, half, complete.
But I have hope, and that’s a start,
a steady pulse beneath my feet.

So maybe I can smile for now,
not fully whole, but halfway there.
And soon, if fate is kind to me,
I’ll be forever in your care.

Wrapped in your arms, I won’t pretend,
I’ll finally let my heart unbend.
And I’ll be happy, truly so,
not just in pieces, not alone......
  

I smile more lately and no one died.
No shoe dropped, no storms arrived.
I laugh without a hidden ache,
no one left, no one betrayed.

But still my heart beats out of sync,
like joy might turn on me and blink.
Like if I trust this light too soon,
I'll find myself alone by noon.

I search the corners of the sky
for proof this isn’t just a lie.
Can peace be real without a price?
Can I feel safe and still survive?

But maybe this time, things are kind.
Maybe it’s not a warning sign.
Maybe I’m allowed to feel,
and not prepare for things to steal.

I wear this smile like borrowed silk,
still learning that I’m not to blame.
That sometimes, joy is not a trap,
it’s just my soul calling my name.
  

It’s quiet now, but I don’t trust it.
Peace feels loud when you’ve known pain.
My chest still tightens without reason,
like thunder's whispering again.

My hands still shake at harmless noises,
my eyes still scan the room for threat.
Even love feels like a warning,
like a promise I’ll regret.

The war is over, so they say,
but trauma didn’t get the memo.
It lingers like a ghost in mirrors,
haunting every calm I know.

My smile returns, but half-hearted.
My laugh is laced with clenched control.
I wish my nervous system knew
I’m no longer in that role.

But even joy can trigger tears,
and kindness makes me brace to bleed.
I’m healing, yes, but every breath
reminds me what I used to need.
  

I used to dream in shades of gray,
where futures faded into night.
Where stars were just too far away
and wishes died before they’d light.

Now hope taps gently at my door,
with hands too soft, too kind, too clean.
And suddenly I’m scared of more,
because more was never part of me.

What if I build and it breaks again?
What if I leap and lose the sky?
My scars remember how it felt
to reach too far and ask “but why?”

I forgot how to dream without flinching.
How to hope without a plan to fall.
Now even joy feels like a gamble,
a baited breath before the call.

I tiptoe through this brighter world,
a stranger in my own soft skin,
because I forgot that dreams could live,
and not just die before they begin.
  

I laughed today, and it felt wrong,
like I’d stolen joy from someone else.
My smile cracked like borrowed glass,
too fragile to trust myself.

This happiness—it doesn’t fit.
It wears me like a costume does.
I twirl in light that used to burn
and question what this feeling was.

Is this real? Or just a scene
before the credits bleed with grief?
I hold it like it might explode,
this tender, trembling disbelief.

I’ve made a home inside the dark,
a nest of numb, a quiet ache.
So now the warmth just makes me sweat,
like peace is some mistake.

I don't know how to dance in this,
don’t know the rhythm joy requires.
My bones are built from breaking points,
my hope from funeral fires.

So if I wince when good things stay,
or blink too long at sky so blue,
it's not because I want the storm...
I’m just still healing from what I knew.
  

I’m smiling, but with eyes half-closed,
as if joy might detonate.
I tiptoe through these peaceful days,
waiting for fate to retaliate.

Because nothing good stays good for long,
at least, not in my script.
I’ve learned that soft can turn to sharp,
that kindness often flips.

I flinch at compliments like threats,
brace for silence after laughs.
Because love has always come with terms,
and healing's shadow never lasts.

So here I stand in borrowed light,
paranoid and barely whole,
half-expecting life to shift
and leave another aching hole.

The plot twist always finds its time,
the fall comes after grace.
I’m scared of how serene this feels,
like the calm before disgrace.

So don’t mind if I can’t lean in,
or trust what’s given free.
I’ve survived too many storylines
where “happy” came with fee
  

He said it softly, like a prayer,
as if love could fix what wasn’t there.
But my lungs forgot their every role,
his words wrapped tightly 'round my soul.

“I love you.”
Three bombs, not blooms.
The echo filled the empty rooms
where all the ghosts I used to know
rose up and whispered,
“He’ll let go.”

I smiled, but it was just my skin.
Inside, the panic crawled back in.
Love never lingered, not for me.
It always asked a quiet fee.

Be soft. Be small. Don’t ask too much.
Be grateful just to feel his touch.
And if he leaves, don’t cry, don’t scream,
just say you knew it was a dream.

I want to believe him,
I swear I do.
But every time I try,
my heart just cry.

Because being loved means being seen,
and being seen means being left,
at least in all of my life's stories
where love was just theft.

So I stood there silent,
smiling through dread.
Wishing I could say " i love you" back,
but choking instead.
  

They said it would feel like sunrise,
like flowers blooming through the pain.
But healing’s been a quiet war,
a shedding skin I can’t regain.

I miss the girl who flinched at touch,
who trusted no one, not even me.
I hate that I still mourn the cage,
because at least I knew the key.

The light feels foreign on my face,
and laughter cuts me deep and wide,
not because it hurts to smile,
but because I’ve lived so long inside.

Inside the ache, the dark, the dread,
where numbness wrapped me like a shield.
And now they ask me to be brave,
to feel the wounds I never healed.

Growth feels like betrayal now,
like I’m abandoning the girl
who kept me breathing through the fire
while the rest of them burned my world.

So don’t call it beautiful just yet.
Healing is a kind of grief.
It’s saying goodbye to every scar
that once helped me believe in relief.

I’m getting better. Yes, it’s true.
But oh, how it hurts
to lose the you
that got you through.
  

The morning came soft,
without ache in my chest.
No weight on my bones,
no fear stealing rest.

It should've felt healing,
this absence of gloom.
But quiet like this
can swallow a room.

No panic, no pressure,
just breath in the air,
yet peace made me shiver
like ghosts lingered there.

Was this what they meant
when they spoke about light?
Because all I could see
was the shape of the night.

The war paused, I think,
but the silence was sharp.
Like waiting for thunder
with hands on my heart.

I woke up okay,
no tears, no scream.
But it scared me to death
What that stillness could mean...

that maybe I'm healing,
or maybe I'm numb.
I’m not sure which version
of me I’ve become


    

I hated the screaming,
the mess and the fights,
but somehow in silence,
my chest doesn't feel right.

The stillness is foreign,
too empty, too wide,
like standing in sunlight
with nowhere to hide.

I miss the tension,
the slam of a door,
not because it was good,
but I knew what it’s for.

Now quiet feels cruel,
like I’m lost in a play,
where everyone smiles,
but I’ve got nothing to say.

Peace never loved me,
it kept me on edge.
So I built my home
on a pain-soaked ledge.

And now that it's calm,
I itch for the storm,
because love without hurt
just doesn't feel warm.

I crave what broke me,
not because it’s right.
But because it's familiar,
and silence? It bites


    

“I’m Not Used to Things Going Right”
And when they do, it’s suspicious.

They say I should be smiling now,
the rain has passed, the sun knows how
to warm these bones, to heal my skin,
but peace feels like a stranger in.

I flinch at ease, I wait for breaks,
count heartbeats like I’m dodging fakes.
When nothing's wrong, I search the air,
convinced that pain still lingers there.

This calm? It’s staged, it’s not real life.
Where’s the blow, the wound, the knife?
I’ve danced too long with grief and fear,
joy feels like danger drawing near.

I don’t know how to just exhale,
when every soft breeze hides a gale.
Even in love, I hold my breath,
because every good has felt like death.

So if you see me tense at light,
don’t ask me why I fear what’s right.
My heart’s been trained by endless fights,
I’ve never trusted gentle nights.


    

His laughter broke the ice around me,
a spark that burned too close, too free.
His warmth a flame I wasn’t ready to hold,
reminding me how my nights have been so cold.

I wanted to reach, I wanted to stay,
but fear told me to turn away.
Because kindness felt like a trap,
a door too wide, a sudden gap.

He made me laugh, so I wanted to run,
from light I’d never learned from.
I’m scared to trust what feels so true,
because warmth reminds me what I never knew.

So I step back, I close the door,
even when my heart aches for more.
The warmth he gives is scary and new,
and so, I run from what’s good and true.


    

The sun breaks through, the sky is clear,
but underneath, the ache is near.
I wear my smile, a borrowed light,
while something in me fights the night.

Joy cracks open wounds so deep,
memories buried start to creep.
I didn’t know those scars could bleed,
but happiness wakes pain I didn’t need.

I laugh, I glow, I dance, I sigh,
yet tears still pool behind my eyes.
For every smile that shows outside,
a storm still rages deep inside.

So don’t ask why I want to cry
when all the world says I’m okay.
Sometimes joy and grief collide,
and healing walks a fragile way.

    

I live like walls might crumble,
a house built on shifting sands.
Every smile feels like a gamble,
and peace slips right through my hands.

I watch for signs, for tiny breaks,
in moments bright, in love’s embrace.
My heart’s a vault on constant guard,
always bracing for the shards.

The silence shakes, the quiet breaks,
a storm inside that never waits.
I check the cracks, again and again,
prepared for when it all might end.

Because hope feels like a fragile glass,
and fear’s the shadow it can’t surpass.
So I live in a state of quake,
waiting for the next heartache.

    

You reach for me with gentle hands,
offering me what I don’t understand.
A kindness strange, a touch so new,
but I don’t know how to be loved by you.

Your words fall soft like morning rain,
but inside me, I feel the strain,
like walls I built to guard my pain
are trembling, breaking, will they remain?

I want to lean, I want to fall,
to open up and let you in my all,
but the ghost of hurt still haunts my door,
I don’t know love like I did before.

You hold me close, but I pull away,
scared to trust what you want to say.
Your care is a language I can’t quite speak,
a melody my heart’s too tired to seek.

I’m learning slow what love can be,
not a battle, not captivity,
but a quiet place where souls can mend,
a broken heart’s reluctant friend.

So forgive me if I stumble, if I hide,
if I can’t always stand by your side.
I’m trying, love, to break the chain,
to know how to be loved again.

    

I step inside this quiet room,
where silence hums a softer tune,
but shadows crawl beneath the light,
is this what safe feels like at night?

The walls don’t scream, the floor won’t break,
yet every breath feels like a stake,
a question sharp as winter’s knife,
is safety just unfamiliar life?

I want to trust the calm I find,
but fear is rooted in my mind,
it whispers doubts I can’t dismiss,
“this peace, my dear, is just a risk.”

No screams to drown, no storms to fight,
just empty space and fading light,
and yet my heart beats wild and fast,
as if this stillness cannot last.

Is safety just a stranger’s face,
a place that time has yet to grace?
Or is it hope, disguised as fear,
that maybe healing’s finally near?

I watch my hands, they tremble slow,
unsure if safe means let go,
or if this calm will somehow break,
and leave me shattered in its wake.

But still I linger, soft and shy,
beneath this quiet, uncertain sky,
because maybe safe is what I’ll find,
when fear and hope begin to bind.

Is this what safe feels like? I ask,
while wearing doubt like a heavy mask,
and though my soul is slow to trust,
I reach for peace, I must.


    

I try to speak in colors bright,
in laughter’s warm and gentle light,
but words of joy slip through my hands,
like grains of time in shifting sands.

I’m fluent in the tongue of pain,
of silent tears and midnight rain,
but joy, a language strange and new,
feels like a world I never knew.

I stumble over simple smiles,
can’t find the rhythm, miss the miles
between my heart and open skies,
where love and peace might softly rise.

They say, “belong, just take your place,”
but joy’s a dance I can’t embrace,
because my soul’s still learning how
to wear the light upon my brow.

Yet sometimes in the quiet glow,
a flicker of the joy I know,
reminds me that the night will end,
and broken hearts can learn to mend.

So I keep trying, step by step,
to learn the words my heart has kept,
because joy might not be native tongue,
but it’s a song still yet unsung.

    

Through darkest nights and fiercest storms,
when all seems lost and far from warm,
I clutch a fragile, glowing thread,
a whisper of the words unsaid.

Hope, a candle flickering bright,
against the backdrop of the night,
a gentle force that pulls me through,
when nothing else I know feels true.

It’s not a roar or blazing fire,
but quiet, steady, soft desire,
to hold on just a little more,
to find the peace worth fighting for.

Though weary bones and aching heart,
push me close to falling apart,
I rise again with dawn’s first light,
because inside still burns the fight.

So I carry hope within my soul,
a broken thing, but still made whole,
a testament to what I’ve learned,
that even shattered hearts can yearn.

And in that yearning, strength is born,
to face the dark and greet the morn,
for hope’s the thread that weaves us through,
and still I carry hope — anew.

    

This feels like borrowed time,
like holding sunlight in a cracked glass jar,
knowing the light won’t last,
that soon, the darkness will come back hard.

I smile, but it’s a fragile thing,
a fragile glass that’s bound to break,
each laugh a borrowed song,
each moment a step on a fragile lake.

I watch the clock,
hear the silent tick beneath my skin,
wondering when the other shoe will drop,
when this happiness will wear too thin.

Because joy for me is a thief,
stealing peace only to leave a wound,
a reminder that all good things
have endings hidden in the bloom.

I want to trust this warmth,
but shadows creep beneath my smile,
a ghost whispering, “Not for long,”
turning seconds into miles.

So I hold tight,
to the good that’s here,
but brace my heart,
for the pain I fear.

This feels like borrowed time,
but I’ll keep living
in the moment’s light,
even if it’s borrowed,
even if it’s fleeting,
because sometimes
even borrowed time
is enough to feel alive.

    

When he’s nice,
I brace myself,
like winter waiting for the first cold breath,
like a heart that’s been cracked
still expects the next jagged step.

Because softness is foreign,
like a language I forgot how to speak,
and gentle words feel like traps,
sweet honey hiding the sting beneath.

I’m waiting for the silence that shouts,
for the calm before the storm erupts,
for love to flip, for kindness to break,
for the ground beneath me to quake.

I want to lean in, to let go,
but my scars pull tight, whispering no,
reminding me that edges cut deep,
and promises can dissolve like snow.

So when he’s nice,
I hold my breath,
waiting for the world to shift,
for the shadow to stretch,
for the ache to come back again.

But maybe,
just maybe,
this softness isn’t a lie,
maybe this time,
I don’t have to hide.

So I brace myself,
but I also reach,
for the love I never thought could teach
a heart like mine to heal, to breathe.

    

I laughed,
really laughed,
the kind that shakes the ribs and forgets the weight.
It cracked through my chest like dawn through a storm,
and for a second,
I swore I felt warm.

But then,
a shadow crept in through the light,
like guilt had been waiting just out of sight.
My breath caught halfway through the joy,
I blinked, and I was a broken toy.

Because how dare I feel okay?
How dare I forget the price I pay?
What if this is the calm before it breaks?
What if happiness was one of fate’s mistakes?

It felt like cheating on my grief,
betraying the ache that shaped my belief.
As if smiling meant I’d moved on,
as if my wounds should all be gone.

But they’re not.
They never left.
They just sleep in softer beds.
And when I laughed, I woke them up,
they clawed their way back into my head.

I felt joy
and then I panicked.
Like dancing in a house that’s burning down.
Like tasting sugar with a poisoned tongue.
Like being praised for staying strong
when you’re already unsung.

It’s hard to feel light when you’ve lived in the dark,
when love leaves bruises and memory barks.
So joy feels foreign, a stranger I fear,
because every smile
feels like the next tear is near.

And I wish it wasn’t this way.
I wish I could let joy stay.
But every time it knocks on my door,
I open,
and brace
for war.

    

I smile like it’s stitched into place,
like a costume I wear just to save face.
A curve of the lips, rehearsed and clean,
but God, you don’t know what it really means.

It’s not joy, it’s not peace, it’s not light breaking through,
it’s a reflex, a habit, a trick I still do.
They say, “you’re glowing,” and I just nod,
but inside, I’m begging a silent God.

To not let me break mid-laugh, mid-breath,
to hold me together while I’m faking death.
Because every time I pretend I’m okay,
a little bit more of me slips away.

I’ve smiled at mirrors and hated their stare,
wondered how nobody sees I’m not there.
This grin? It’s armor, painted in gold,
to hide all the stories I’ve never told.

I laugh at the jokes, I nod at the cue,
but I’m playing a version that isn’t true.
It’s easier than saying “I’m falling apart,”
easier than handing out pieces of heart.

Because when I show pain, the room gets cold,
so I smile instead—watch the lie unfold.
I become what the world wants to see,
a sunshine version of a storming me.

But smiling feels like lying, it’s not real,
when you’re too numb to actually feel.
So if one day I forget how to pretend,
just know I was tired
of playing
the friend.

    

Don’t hand me light like I’ve never been burned,
like I don’t know how quickly the seasons can turn.
Don’t whisper sweet futures I’m too scared to believe,
don’t make me hope again only to grieve.

I’ve carried heartbreak like a fragile stone,
tossed it in rivers where no one’s known.
Each promise, a fracture inside my chest,
each “maybe” a wound that never lets rest.

So don’t give me dawn if I’m waiting for night,
don’t show me stars if I’m lost from the light.
Because hope is a fragile, trembling thing,
and I’m too tired to hear it sing.

Don’t make me hope again,
don’t light that spark,
when I’m already lost
in the dark.

    

I flinch when the morning feels too still,
when coffee tastes warm and time stands still.
Because peace, to me, has always lied,
a soft calm just before the tide.

I don’t trust blue skies without a crack,
or laughter that doesn’t feel like it’s holding back.
I wait for the phone call, the slam of the door,
the moment the quiet turns into war.

You see me smile, but I’m checking the floor,
for traps I’ve learned to expect and ignore.
Because chaos raised me, taught me to breathe
in storms that never gave me reprieve.

So when it’s quiet, I listen too hard,
for the screams I know are never far.
And when things are good, I brace my spine,
because I know good doesn’t mean it’s fine.

It means the crash is on delay.
It means life is setting up the play.
A twisted joke I know too well,
Heaven always comes before I’m thrown back to hell.

Don’t tell me to “enjoy the light,”
when I’ve lived so long in endless night.
The dark taught me to watch my step,
to hold my breath, to guard what’s left.

Still… I wish I knew how to stay,
how to rest in the warmth of a peaceful day.
But my muscles twitch when nothing's wrong—
like silence is just the start of the song.

And it plays in my head like a warning bell,
this might be heaven,
but all I know is hell..
  

Sometimes I think joy wears a mask,
A lie dressed up in light, a temporary task.
Like love is a loan I’ll have to repay,
And smiles are debts that’ll strip me one day.

You hold me like I’m worth the sun,
But my heart flinches, ready to run.
Because every "I love you" feels like a dare,
Like the calm before a storm I can’t prepare.

I laugh, but I count the hours inside,
Bracing for when the dream will slide.
Like happiness is bait on a rusted hook,
And I’m the fool who never read the book.

Too many times, the good went grim,
A slow collapse from edge to limb.
So now I keep one foot on the floor,
Even when I’m dancing, always unsure.

You say you’ll stay, my stomach knots.
I catalog every promise, connect the dots.
Because peace never lasts in my story’s plot,
It blooms, it bursts, then it rots.

But still I hope, quietly, small,
That this time, maybe I won’t fall.
That maybe the good is actually real,
And I won’t have to trade joy for steel.

Still… I sleep with one eye open tight,
Prepared to lose you in the night.
Not because I want to—
But because I’ve learned
Too good to be true
Is a lesson I've earned.