Broken Vessels

I feel you crawling through my veins,
not like fire,
not like ice,
but something quieter—
a weightless drowning.

Your name, still sharp on my tongue,
a rusted key in a door long closed.
Every breath I take,
a hymn in your absence,
a prayer unanswered.

And I swore I’d let you go,
but the echo of your voice
does not forgive,
does not forget.

So take what’s left,
wear my ruin like a crown.
Trace the map of me with your hands,
see where the fault lines tremble.
I was never meant to stand alone.

You move like static in my head,
flickering, fading,
but never truly gone.
I call you by old names,
and you answer in silence.

Pull me under—
let the waves fold over,
let the sky split,
let the light run out.

And still,
somewhere beneath it all,
you remain.