Reverberations

There’s a weight I never want to carry again. It creeps in the silence, makes a bed out of my ribs, tosses my body like driftwood in restless currents. Sleep will not touch me. It never does when this visits. You’re somewhere unbothered, unshaken, while I drown in echoes I never invited. Why should I care? Why does my chest keep summoning shadows my mind already buried? I don’t want this. Not the memory, not the pull, not the slow burn of something unnamed gnawing at the edge of my sanity. Every time, it ends in ruin, charred maps, hollow doors, a silence that never forgives. I gain nothing from longing. I lose everything by staying. So leave. Whatever you are, whatever you mean go. I want nothing more to do with you. And still, you hum beneath my bones like a secret that refuses to forget itself.