The Ache that Named My Heart

Misery, I miss it,

Like sun misses the moon so far.

A whisper in hollow,

Where hurt was home.

I’m healing now, or so I say,

In days that come and go away.

I wear this calm like borrowed mask,

Like shifted shape and tattered heart.

I’m at peace — I guess.

Soft, polite, and far too still.

But ohh, the Chaos — it used to sing,

And I — I used to feel.

I miss the bruises I called mine,

The echoed screams behind my eyes.

They held me close, they knew my name,

In ways this Silence could never compare.

Perhaps I wore the ache too long,

Stitched the sorrow deep along.

Now joy feels foreign, love feels light,

And I miss the part that used to fright.

So here I stand — half whole, half gone,

Torn between the dusk and dawn,

Craving for what once tore me apart,

Aching for ache that named my heart.