The Beggar’s Bargain: Part Three

I stayed beside her until the rain stopped.

She never knew.

She walked home alone beneath the streetlights, pulling her coat tighter around herself.

I followed.

Not because I wanted to.

Because I couldn’t do anything else.

Every step she took pulled me with her.

Every doorway she entered became mine.

Every room she walked into became a room I could never leave.

I was bound to her.

The beggar had kept his promise.

I just hadn’t understood what the promise would feel like.

She opened the door to her apartment.

I followed her inside.

She turned on the lights.

I stood behind her.

Watching.

Waiting.

Hoping.

She dropped her keys onto the counter.

I stared at them.

I remembered those keys.

I remembered the first apartment we shared.

The nights we’d stay awake talking until sunrise.

The way she’d steal the blankets.

The way she’d pretend to be asleep whenever I complained.

I smiled.

Then I remembered.

She didn’t remember me.

The smile disappeared.

She walked into the kitchen.

I followed.

She opened the refrigerator.

I watched her grab a bottle of water.

Something inside me broke.

Not because she was drinking water.

Because I remembered buying that exact brand for her.

She used to tell me it tasted better than the cheap stuff.

I wanted to laugh.

I wanted to tell her.

I wanted to say,

You still drink it.

But my voice never came.

I tried anyway.

“Do you remember?”

Nothing.

“Please.”

Nothing.

I stepped closer.

“It’s me.”

She shivered.

Her hand stopped.

She looked around.

My heart would’ve stopped if I still had one.

“Hello?”

I stood directly in front of her.

She couldn’t see me.

She looked toward the hallway.

Then the kitchen.

Nothing.

She rubbed her arms.

“Why is it so cold in here?”

I closed my eyes.

I was standing inches away from the woman I loved.

And she was afraid of me.

That was the first night.

It didn’t get easier.

It got worse.

Every day I watched her live.

Every day she forgot me.

And every day I remembered everything.

That was the punishment.

I remembered every kiss.

Every argument.

Every laugh.

Every stupid little thing I thought I’d forgotten.

The sound of her footsteps.

The way she said my name.

The look on her face when she was trying not to laugh.

The first time she told me she loved me.

The last time she told me she loved me.

I remembered all of it.

She remembered none of it.

Sometimes I screamed.

Sometimes I begged.

Sometimes I followed her from room to room just hoping she’d somehow feel something.

Anything.

But all I ever got was a shiver.

A glance over her shoulder.

A whisper of,

“Who’s there?”

I was there.

I was always there.

And she was always alone.

At least…

That’s what she thought.

Then the dreams started.

The first time, she woke up screaming.

I was sitting beside her bed.

She had tears running down her face.

She pressed a hand against her chest.

“Who was that?”

I stared at her.

She looked around the room.

Then she whispered,

“I know you.”

My entire body went still.

She looked directly at me.

For one impossible second, I thought she could see me.

Then her eyes moved past me.

She didn’t know I was there.

But she knew someone was.

She closed her eyes again.

I watched her fall back asleep.

And then I saw it.

Her face changed.

She was dreaming.

I couldn’t hear everything.

But I could see myself.

Standing beside her.

Alive.

Smiling.

Holding her hand.

She smiled back.

A tear rolled down her cheek.

“No,” she whispered in her sleep.

I moved closer.

“Please,” she said.

My chest tightened.

“Don’t go.”

I reached toward her.

My hand passed through hers.

She suddenly opened her eyes.

She gasped.

The dream was gone.

But she was still crying.

She looked around the room.

“Why do I keep dreaming about you?”

I couldn’t answer.

She wiped her face.

“I don’t even know who you are.”

I whispered,

“Yes, you do.”

She couldn’t hear me.

But something had changed.

The dreams continued.

Night after night.

Sometimes she dreamed about places.

A restaurant.

A park.

A rainy street.

A little apartment with yellow walls.

Places I remembered.

Places we had been.

Sometimes she dreamed about conversations.

Things I’d said to her.

Things she couldn’t possibly know.

And sometimes…

She dreamed about me dying.

Those were the worst.

She would watch me disappear.

Watch me walk away.

Watch me stand in the rain.

Watch me drink the black liquid.

And every time she woke up crying.

Every time she would say the same thing.

“I don’t know him.”

But she always remembered my face.

Not during the day.

Never during the day.

But when she slept…

Something inside her refused to let me disappear completely.

And that gave me hope.

Hope was cruel.

I began waiting for nighttime.

The only time I could be near her without feeling completely invisible.

I watched her sleep.

I listened to her breathing.

Sometimes she smiled in her dreams.

Sometimes she cried.

Sometimes she reached toward the empty side of the bed.

Toward me.

One night, she whispered,

“Stay.”

I froze.

She reached out.

Her hand moved through the space where I was standing.

“Please.”

I moved closer.

“I’m here.”

Her fingers curled around nothing.

But she smiled.

For the first time since I died…

She smiled at me.

Even though she couldn’t see me.

Even though she didn’t know why.

Then she whispered something that made the darkness inside me disappear.

“I miss you.”

I couldn’t breathe.

I fell to my knees beside her bed.

She didn’t know who she missed.

She didn’t know my name.

She didn’t know our memories.

But somewhere inside her…

Something missed me.

I reached toward her face.

My fingers stopped just before touching her skin.

I couldn’t feel her warmth.

But I could see her.

And somehow that hurt more.

Because she was right there.

And I had never felt farther away.

Then her eyes opened.

She stared directly at me.

Not past me.

Not through me.

At me.

I couldn’t move.

Neither could she.

Her eyes filled with tears.

She whispered,

“It’s you.”

I almost screamed.

“What?”

She sat up slowly.

Her breathing became shallow.

“I’ve seen you before.”

I moved closer.

“Where?”

Her face twisted with confusion.

“In my dreams.”

My voice broke.

“You remember me?”

She shook her head.

“No.”

The hope disappeared.

“But I remember how I feel when I see you.”

I stared at her.

She reached toward me.

Her hand passed through my chest.

She pulled it back quickly.

Her face went pale.

“You’re cold.”

I looked down at myself.

I could see the streetlight through my chest.

“I know.”

She stared at me.

“Are you dead?”

I nodded.

She swallowed.

“Were you someone I loved?”

I couldn’t speak.

She started crying.

“Why can’t I remember you?”

I wanted to tell her everything.

I wanted to tell her how much I loved her.

How much I had sacrificed.

How I had given up everything just to bring her back.

Instead, I whispered the only thing I could.

“You did.”

She closed her eyes.

A tear slipped down her cheek.

Then she whispered,

“Then why does remembering you hurt so much?”

I didn’t have an answer.

But somewhere outside the apartment…

I heard laughter.

That same laugh.

Deep.

Old.

Familiar.

The beggar.

I turned toward the window.

He was standing across the street.

Watching us.

Smiling.

I ran toward the door.

But before I reached it, his voice filled the room.

“You wanted her back.”

I froze.

His voice came from everywhere.

“You never asked what remembering would cost.”

I turned around.

He was gone.

She was still sitting on the bed.

Crying.

Confused.

And then she looked at me again.

“I know you,” she whispered.

This time…

I wasn’t sure if that was a blessing.

Or the beginning of something much worse.

Because if she could remember me…

Maybe the bargain wasn’t over.

Maybe it had only just begun.

The Beggar’s Bargain: Part Two

The paper was cold. Not cold like something left out in the rain. Cold like it had never known warmth. I held it between my fingers, staring at the strange symbols carved across its surface.

“What do I have to do?”

The beggar didn’t answer. He simply watched me. Waiting.

“For her,” I whispered. “I’ll do anything.”

“I know.”

His voice sounded different now. Deeper. Older. Like several voices were speaking through the same mouth.

He reached into his coat and pulled out a small glass vial. Inside was a thick, black liquid. It moved slowly, even though he wasn’t shaking it.

“What is that?”

“A gamble.”

I frowned. “A gamble?”

The beggar nodded. “You want her back.”

“Yes.”

“I can give her back.”

My heart skipped.

“But there is no guarantee.”

“Guarantee of what?”

His eyes narrowed.

“That she will remember you.”

I stared at him. “What do you mean?”

“When she returns, she may remember everything.”

Hope rose inside me.

“Everything?”

“Her childhood.”

He lifted one finger.

“Her family.”

Another.

“Her friends.”

Another.

“Her life.”

Then he looked directly into my eyes.

“Maybe even you.”

My heart began pounding.

“Maybe?”

The beggar smiled.

“Death takes many things.”

He held up the vial.

“Sometimes it takes the body.”

“Sometimes the memories.”

“And sometimes…”

He paused.

“…the people who belong to those memories.”

I didn’t understand.

“What happens if she doesn’t remember me?”

“You’ll know.”

“And if she does?”

The beggar shrugged.

“Then perhaps you win.”

“Perhaps?”

He laughed.

“You asked for a miracle.”

He stepped closer.

“Miracles are nothing more than foolish gambles with impossible odds.”

I stared at the vial.

“So what happens to me?”

The beggar smiled.

“That depends.”

“On what?”

“Whether she remembers you.”

I swallowed.

“And if she doesn’t?”

His expression changed. The smile disappeared.

“Then you will become something else.”

“What?”

“A ghost.”

I stared at him.

“You’re joking.”

“Do I look like a man who jokes?”

No.

He didn’t.

“You’ll be bound to her.”

“For how long?”

The beggar’s eyes seemed to darken.

“Until she dies.”

I felt my stomach twist.

“And then?”

He smiled again.

“Who knows?”

I looked away.

This was insane. A stranger in the rain was offering to bring my dead lover back to life. And all I had to do was gamble everything.

“What are the odds?”

The beggar laughed.

“Does it matter?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because I need to know what I’m risking.”

He stepped closer until his face was inches from mine.

“You already know.”

His voice dropped to a whisper.

“You’re risking yourself.”

I looked down at the photograph in my hand. Her smile. Her eyes. The woman I would give anything to hold again.

“What if she remembers me?”

“Then you have her back.”

“And if she doesn’t?”

“You’ll still have her.”

I frowned.

“What does that mean?”

“She’ll live.”

He paused.

“She’ll laugh.”

Another pause.

“She’ll love.”

His eyes locked onto mine.

“She just won’t know that you were ever part of her life.”

My chest tightened.

“And I’ll be there?”

“Always.”

“Watching her?”

“Yes.”

“Unable to speak to her?”

“Yes.”

“Unable to touch her?”

“Yes.”

“Unable to leave?”

The beggar smiled.

“Never.”

Silence.

I looked at the vial. The gamble suddenly felt much bigger. But then I looked at her photograph.

And I realized something.

I wasn’t afraid of losing myself.

I had already lost everything that mattered.

I just wanted her back.

So I reached for the vial.

The beggar didn’t stop me. He only whispered:

“Foolish man.”

I looked at him.

“What?”

He smiled.

“Nothing.”

I uncorked the vial. The smell that escaped wasn’t chemical. It smelled like earth. Like a grave.

I raised it toward my lips.

Then stopped.

“One last question.”

The beggar waited.

“If she doesn’t remember me…”

My voice cracked.

“…will she at least know that I loved her?”

The beggar stared at me.

For the first time, he looked almost sorry.

“No.”

My heart sank.

“But she may feel you.”

I frowned.

“What?”

“A cold breeze when you’re near.”

“A shadow that follows her.”

“A presence beside her when she sleeps.”

He leaned closer.

“She may spend the rest of her life feeling like someone is watching over her.”

I looked at the vial.

“And she’ll never know it’s me?”

“No.”

I closed my eyes.

Then I drank.

The liquid was ice-cold.

Not the kind of cold that made me shiver.

The kind that felt alive.

It slid down my throat like melted snow, then suddenly turned to fire. I doubled over, clutching my chest as something inside me seemed to twist.

I couldn’t breathe.

My lungs seized.

I opened my mouth, but no air came.

Then I felt my heartbeat.

One beat.

Two.

Three.

And then—

Nothing.

My heart stopped.

I looked at the beggar.

He hadn’t moved.

He was smiling.

Then another heartbeat slammed against my ribs.

Hard enough to hurt.

I gasped.

A second later, another.

Then another.

Too fast.

Too loud.

Each beat sounded like a fist pounding against the inside of my chest.

I dropped the vial.

It shattered against the pavement.

The pain spread through my body.

My fingers went numb first.

Then my hands.

A strange tingling crawled beneath my skin, like thousands of tiny insects were moving through my veins.

I scratched at my arms.

Nothing.

The sensation wasn’t on my skin.

It was underneath it.

Deep beneath the flesh.

I looked down.

The tips of my fingers had begun to fade.

Not disappear.

Fade.

As though someone had taken an eraser to my body.

I could see the rain through them.

“No.”

I stumbled backward.

My shoes scraped against the pavement.

I grabbed my arm.

My fingers passed through it.

There was no resistance.

No warmth.

No flesh.

Nothing.

I screamed.

“What did you do to me?”

The beggar only watched.

My stomach dropped.

I could no longer feel the rain hitting my skin.

I could see it.

I could see every drop passing through my hands.

But I couldn’t feel a single one.

Then my skin began to crawl.

Not metaphorically.

I watched as the flesh along my arms rippled beneath my sleeves, moving against the shape of my bones.

My jaw clenched.

A pressure built inside my skull.

My ears began ringing.

Then came the whispering.

Thousands of voices.

All around me.

All inside me.

Some crying.

Some laughing.

Some calling my name.

I covered my ears.

It didn’t help.

The voices were coming from somewhere deeper.

From whatever part of me was still left.

My knees buckled.

I fell to the ground.

But I didn’t feel the impact.

I looked down.

My legs were transparent now.

The pavement showed through them.

My chest followed.

My ribs faded.

My hands.

My arms.

My entire body was becoming nothing.

I could see the street through myself.

The rain through myself.

The world through myself.

I tried to scream again.

But my voice came out wrong.

Thin.

Distorted.

Like it was being dragged through a long, empty hallway.

Then the cold reached my face.

It crawled across my skin.

Over my cheeks.

Across my lips.

Into my eyes.

I blinked.

And for one terrifying second, I couldn’t remember what it felt like to have a body.

I couldn’t remember the warmth of my own skin.

The weight of my hands.

The sound of my heartbeat.

Even my reflection began to disappear from the puddle beneath me.

I reached toward it.

There was nothing there.

Then—

Silence.

The voices stopped.

The pain stopped.

The cold stopped.

Everything stopped.

I looked up.

She was standing beneath the streetlight.

Alive.

Breathing.

Looking directly at me.

My heart should have been pounding.

But I no longer had a heartbeat.

“Her…”

I took a step toward her.

She stepped backward.

Fear filled her eyes.

I reached for her.

“It’s me.”

She stared at me.

Confused.

Afraid.

Then she whispered:

“I’m sorry…”

She shook her head.

“I don’t know you.”

I froze.

The world seemed to disappear around me.

“No…”

I looked toward the beggar.

He was gone.

Only the rain remained.

I turned back to her.

She couldn’t see me anymore.

I screamed her name.

She didn’t move.

I ran toward her.

My hand passed through her shoulder.

She shivered.

She looked around.

“Why does it feel so cold?”

I stood beside her.

Crying.

Screaming.

Begging her to remember me.

But she couldn’t hear me.

She couldn’t see me.

She couldn’t remember me.

And somewhere in the darkness behind us…

I heard the beggar laugh.

That’s when I realized the truth.

It was never a gamble.

The beggar already knew how the story would end.

I hadn’t gambled with my life.

I had gambled with my place in hers.

And I had lost.

To be continued…

The Beggar’s Bargain: Part One

I wish I could see her again.

Just once.

To hold her in my arms
And feel the warmth of her breath against my skin.
To hear her heart beating,
Slowly, softly,
Until it fell in sync with mine.

I would give anything for that.

Anything.

I still can’t believe she’s gone.
Some mornings, I wake up expecting her to be beside me.
Some nights, I reach across the bed
Only to find cold sheets beneath my hand.

She’s gone.

And no matter how many times I tell myself that,
My heart refuses to believe it.

God is cruel to me.

How am I supposed to keep living
When the person who made life worth living
Is no longer here?

So I stopped trying.

I stopped going home.
Stopped answering calls.
Stopped sleeping.
Stopped eating.

I started drinking instead.

It was easier.

There’s more liquor than blood inside of me now,
And every night I pour another glass
Hoping it will drown the memories.

It never does.

Her face still finds me in the dark.

Her voice still whispers in my dreams.

And every morning,
I wake up disappointed that I survived another night.

That night, the rain had soaked through my clothes.

I wandered through the city without knowing where I was going.
Streetlights flickered above me.
The sidewalks were empty.
Every window I passed was dark.

I felt like a ghost
Long before I ever died.

Then I saw him.

A beggar sitting beneath a broken streetlight.

At first, I barely noticed him.

His clothes were filthy.
His shoes were worn down to the soles.
His hair hung over his face, dripping with rain.

But something about him made me stop.

Maybe it was the way he sat perfectly still
While the rain poured around him.

Maybe it was the way he wasn’t shivering.

Or maybe…

It was the fact that he was staring directly at me.

I looked behind me.

There was no one else.

I turned back.

He was still watching.

His eyes were strange.

Too dark.

Too focused.

Like he wasn’t looking at my face.

Like he was looking through me.

I tightened my grip around the bottle in my hand
And started walking.

“Please.”

I stopped.

His voice was barely above a whisper.

I slowly turned around.

He held out one trembling hand.

I reached into my pocket.

“How much?”

He didn’t answer.

Instead, his head tilted slightly.

Then he smiled.

There was something wrong with his smile.

Too wide.

Too deliberate.

Like he had been waiting for me.

“I don’t want your money,” he said.

I stared at him.

“Then what do you want?”

His smile disappeared.

He looked at me for a long moment.

Then his eyes dropped to the photograph in my hand.

The one I carried everywhere.

The last picture I had of her.

My stomach tightened.

“How did you—”

“You want her back.”

It wasn’t a question.

I stepped backward.

The beggar slowly rose to his feet.

For the first time, I noticed how tall he was.

Far too tall.

His wet clothes clung to a body that looked unnaturally thin, almost skeletal.

He took one step toward me.

Then another.

“You’ve been asking for a way,” he whispered.

My heart began pounding.

“A way to see her again.”

I couldn’t speak.

He stopped inches away from me.

His breath smelled of something rotten.

Then he leaned toward my ear.

“I can give you what you want.”

I looked into his eyes.

“What would it cost?”

The beggar smiled again.

This time, I saw something behind his teeth.

Something that made my blood run cold.

“Everything has a price.”

He reached into his coat
And pulled out a small, black piece of paper.

He held it between two fingers.

“Make a deal with me…”

The rain suddenly stopped.

And the streetlight above us went dark.

“…and you can have her back.”

I should have run.

I should have thrown the bottle down
And disappeared into the night.

But desperation has a way of making monsters look like miracles.

So I reached for the paper.

And that was the moment
I made the worst mistake of my life.

To be continued…

A Midnight Dose of Her

It was late when I first saw you,

The kind of night where silence hums louder than sound,

Where the moon spills silver like a secret across the sky.

And then there was you.

Short curls resting like shadows on your crown,

Caramel skin catching light like it was chosen and not given,

Eyes not just looking,

But reaching,

Like they knew parts of me I’ve never spoken aloud.

Your lips soft as something meant to ruin me slowly,

The kind of sweetness that lingers,

Long after the moment has passed.

The moon was bright that night,

But it dimmed the second you existed in it.

I told myself you were just a moment,

Just another passing face in the dark.

But you don’t pass,

You stay.

You settle into my thoughts like a quiet addiction.

Uninvited,

Unshaken,

Unchallenged.

Now I crave the unseen versions of you,

The sides no one else has traced,

The depths no one else has dared to drown in.

I want to lose myself in you,

Not gently,

Not safely,

But completely.

To feel what it means to be intoxicated by a presence,

To let you run through my veins,

Like something both holy and dangerous.

You’ve entered my system without warning,

Rewriting me from the inside out.

And now I don’t know how long you’ll stay,

Or how long I’ll survive like this,

Caught somewhere between euphoria and ruin.

I tell myself I need to come down,

I need to find clarity,

I need to remember who I was before you,

But clarity feels empty,

Compared to the chaos of you.

It’s gotten worse.

You haunt the quiet parts of my mind,

Turning every still moment into a memory of you.

My thoughts don’t belong to me anymore,

They orbit you.

Even my body betrays me,

Pulse uneven,

Breath unsteady,

Like something inside me is collapsing,

Without your presence to hold it together.

I feel sick,

Not the kind that fades with time,

But the kind that deepens.

And somehow,

You’re the only cure I can imagine.

What do I have to become to keep you?

What do I have to sacrifice to feel more of you?

This isn’t want anymore,

It’s desperation dressed as devotion.

I’d trade pieces of myself without hesitation,

Reshape my world around you,

Just to feel whole again,

Or at least,

Whatever version of “whole” you’ve redefined.

Without you, I unravel.

LIfe turns jagged,

Restless,

Unbearably loud in all the wrong ways.

You’ve become more than a thought,

More than a feeling,

You are the substance now,

The craving,

The need,

My remedy and my ruin.

And a midnight dose of you,

Barely keeps me alive anymore.

I need more.

Every Good Thing She Carries

First and foremost,

Thank you, God, for her.

Thank you for a love I didn’t see coming,

Yet somehow feels like it was always on its way.

She arrived like answered pray,

Like light slipping through a window I didn’t know was open,

She changed the rhythm of my life,

And introduced a new sound known as love.

She loves me in languages I had never learned,

In ways my heart didn’t know it could be spoken to,

I’m truly grateful to her,

And every good thing she carries.

I love the way she wears confidence,

It’s not loud or forced,

But it’s like how sunlight rests on the morning,

Natural and undeniable.

She knows her beauty,

Not just what the mirror reflect,

But what her soul has always whispered.

She stands in her truth,

Unmoved by doubt,

Rooted in a quiet certainty that inspires mine.

I am unguarded with her,

Able to place my thoughts in her hands,

Without fear of them breaking,

I trust her with my heart,

The way one trusts something sacred,

Knowing she will treat it well,

As something more precious than rubies.

Her kindness flows without hesitation,

Like a river that does not question where it’s going,

Only that it must give.

She welcomes my world as if it were her own,

Meeting my people with warmth,

Welcoming others with grace,

That feels both rare and familiar.

There’s beauty in her generosity,

But even more in the way she gives it freely.

She is my partner in every sense,

Steady in joy,

Present in hardship,

Unshaken when life asks more of us.

I don’t just exist with her,

I experience all the true beauty of life.

She is the one I walk beside,

Equally yoked,

Aligned in purpose,

Moving in the same direction,

With hearts that understand each other.

She is a woman who reveres You,

Who places You at the center,

And allows that love to overflow into everything else.

I see it when she prays,

When she reads Your Word,

When she moves with faith,

Even when the path isn’t clear.

I know she is not here by chance,

You wrote her into my life,

With intention,

With care,

With love that only You could design.

So I thank You,

For preparing me for her,

For allowing our paths to meet,

For the love we now carry together,

And for every good thing you placed inside of her.

Letting Time Do What I Can’t

It was only one night’s chance,

One perfect, reckless dance,

A moment wrapped in spark,

Now it’s echoing in the dark.

I try to keep my distance,

Fighting off this persistence,

Telling my heart to let it be,

While it keeps reaching for what could be.

You replay inside my mind,

Like a feeling I can’t confine,

Still lingering in my soul,

Still a pull I can’t control.

You felt like something rare,

Like a love that could’ve been there,

Beautiful in every way,

The kind that makes you want to stay.

But I know what this really is,

More than just a stolen kiss,

A fleet high, a perfect view,

But not a life I can build with you.

And it hurts not speaking truth,

Not chasing what I want to do,

How I crave you, how I yearn,

Even knowing there’s nothing to earn.

My heart says take the chance,

Go back and relive the dance,

But my mind won’t let me fall

For something that won’t last at all.

You’re a feeling I can’t keep,

Something beautiful but not for me,

Not the future I need to choose,

Just a moment I have to lose.

So I’m stepping back again,

Even though it feels like I’m losing,

Letting logic take the lead,

Over every silent plea.

So I’ll let time do what I can’t,

Break this want I never planned,

‘Cause if I follow how I feel,

I’d chase a love that isn’t real.

Where Fewer Footsteps Follow

It feels strange now,

Not hearing your footsteps beside mine.

There was a comfort in your presence,

A quiet reassurance,

In knowing I wasn’t walking alone

Every road I wandered,

You were there,

Or at least,

I believed you would be.

I refused to move without you,

Anchored myself to your pace,

Convinced myself that us together,

Was the only way forward.

There were moments you drifted behind,

But I waited.

I always waited.

I slowed my stride,

Stilled my progress,

Lingered in places I was never meant to stay.

Just to hear your sound,

Just to barely hear your footsteps.

And for a while,

That felt like love.

But somewhere along the journey,

The distance grew louder than your presence.

The silence between your steps,

Began to echo.

I started to notice everything.

How often you fell behind,

How often I paused my becoming,

Just to keep you near,

And I told myself it was loyalty.

I told myself it was patience,

But wisdom whispered something different.

Not every path is meant to be shared.

Not every companion,

Is meant for the destination.

I want to keep walking,

No, I need to keep walking.

And I can’t keep silencing my purpose,

To hear footsteps that no longer match my own.

So I made the choice,

And broke my promise to you,

I decided to keep going.

It hurt,

God, it still hurts.

There is an ache in outgrowing someone,

You once couldn’t imagine losing.

But even in the quiet,

I realized something profound,

That I was never truly alone.

There are footsteps next to me,

Still walking beside me,

They’re steady and present,

Aligned with where I’m going,

Not pulling me back,

Not asking me to shrink,

But growing with me.

I understand now,

To walk in wisdom,

Sometimes it means walking away.

I once prayed you would catch up to me.

But now I pray something different for you,

I pray you find your own path.

I have finally accepted,

What my heart fought for so long,

Some people are meant for a chapter,

Not the entire journey,

And I must keep moving forward,

Even if the road ahead echoes softer,

Where fewer footsteps follow.

I Whispered His Name to Death

I remember the first time I saw him,

He was arrogant and loud,

He still is to this day,

He is a man swollen with a twisted belief,

That nothing in this world stood above him.

The rules bend around him like frightened servants.

He is a true menace in plain sight.

Yet everyone adored him,

They worshipped the man who never loses,

The man who lives for the race,

The man who runs,

As if Death itself could never catch him.

But I saw the truth in him,

He is a thief wearing a crown

And then there was her,

The girl I loved in silence for a year,

From the shadows,

From the corners where my eyes could linger,

Without ever being seen.

She was perfect.

Too perfect for the world that surrounded her.

Her smile was soft,

Like something sacred only meant for me.

She was supposed to be mine,

And he noticed me staring at her.

He looked at her,

Then at me,

And asked if she’s mine.

I froze.

Just for a moment.

A single moment too long,

And that was all he needed.

He walked over to her,

As if she were a prize,

Waiting to be claimed.

He made her laugh in ways

I had rehearsed a thousand times in my head.

Her smile widened for him,

Her voice was soft and gentle,

Sweet enough to haunt my dreams.

Her body leaned toward him,

And his hand rested against her arm,

Like it had always belonged there.

She was supposed to be mine,

And he stole her from me,

Like it was nothing to him,

Like taking a coin from a beggar’s hand.

So I confronted him.

I demanded what was mine,

And he laughed,

Laughed like I was a joke

God forgot to finish writing.

Then he offered me a race for her.

He would even give me a head start.

He asked with a wicked smile,

“How badly do you want her?”

He knew.

He knew I couldn’t beat him.

But I ran anyway.

Because she was watching.

Surely she would see the truth.

Surely she would see that he was a monster.

A man who didn’t deserve her.

A man who would treat her like another trophy,

To hang on his wall.

I looked back,

And saw her clinging to him,

Looking at him like he was a god.

Why couldn’t she see what I see?

I ran,

I ran until my lungs burned,

Slowed down a little,

Not even sure if I was close to the finish line,

I had to look back,

Not understanding her devotion,

To her new god she just met.

As I was looking back,

He started running,

And he was already past me,

Eyes locked on the finish line,

Not even acknowledging me.

What happened to my head start?

He won.

Of course he won.

Years passed.

He never stops running,

He never stops flaunting her in my face,

She has his children now.

He doesn’t care about her,

The way I do,

He doesn’t love her,

The way I do,

He stole her from me,

Because it amused him.

Because it was a game to him.

I hate him.

I hate him in ways that poison the blood.

Every breath I take tastes like him.

Every night his laughter crawls through my skull.

I cannot outrun him.

I cannot beat him.

But there is one thing that can.

I whisper his name to Death.

Softly.

Over and over again.

Like a prayer spoken in the dark.

Death listens.

Death is patient.

Death waits for the right door.

And when Death finally knocks on his door,

I will be waiting.

Take him.

Break him.

Make him feel the terror,

Of being chased.

Let him run,

Until his legs shatter,

Until his lungs drown in fear.

Make him understand what it feels like to lose.

I would gladly give my life,

For that moment.

Take my breath.

Take my soul.

Take every second I have left.

Just for a chance,

For him to see Death.

Love in the Margins

I remember the first day that we met,

You were lost and asking for directions to a formal event,

You were attending alone,

It was the same that I was going to as well,

And I was also attending alone.

You were a sight to behold,

You wore a beautiful red dress that traced your silhouette effortlessly,

Lipstick the perfect shade of bold,

Long black hair resting gently on your shoulder.

Light brown eyes that caught mine,

And refused to let go.

We would walk together to the event,

We stayed almost instinctively close to each other,

We laughed like we had known each other longer than a night,

The connection between us was pure and easy,

It felt right to be with you,

To guide you to the event.

When we made it to the event,

I thought we would go our separate ways,

But you wanted to be with me,

You still wanted us to be together,

You didn’t want any limitations.

And it felt natural being with you,

I had never wanted close proximity with someone,

Never wanted to see a smile up close,

Never wanted to memorize every detail about a person,

Could you be something more to me?

Could you be my opportunity to experience real love?

Could the possibilities be endless for us?

We were close after the event,

And you wanted us to be closer that night,

Closer than conversation,

Closer than laughter,

But I hesitated,

Because I knew crossing that line,

Would mean I could never return to who I was before.

So I went home and pretended restraint was strength,

But my imagination betrayed me,

I pictured staying with you all night,

Pictured the red dress falling like surrender,

Pictured us closing the space that we pretended not to feel.

We kept growing closer,

Learning each other’s fears and dreams,

You had me all to yourself,

I skipped obligations,

Let responsibilities blur,

Bent pieces of myself,

Just to fit into your world.

I wanted you to be the one,

The one I crossed the line for,

The one I learned love with for the first time,

But then you shook my world,

With a confession that would change everything.

Someone else already had your heart.

You were committed and anchored somewhere else,

But you still wanted me,

You told me I could have a place too,

Just not the whole place.

There would be boundaries.

There would be limits.

And that’s when the real battle began,

Things were now different and apparent,

Every time I moved closer,

I felt the invisible wall.

Every laugh was followed by restraint

Every touch carried hesitation,

Every hope came with a disclaimer.

I was fighting to claim space,

In a heart that was already occupied,

But I told myself love is complex,

Love isn’t always clean,

Maybe real love has its limits.

But deep down I wanted something more,

I wanted something reckless and whole,

I wanted something with no rules,

I did not want borrowed time,

Nor did I want shared devotion,

I wanted love without footnotes,

Without conditions or margins,

And you could not give that to me,

So I had to let you go.

But I wonder now,

Was I foolish to walk away?

Should I have accepted the space you offered me?

Should I have learned to love in the margins?

The Monster Behind Me

It comes every night.

Right when the world goes quiet,

And the lights stop pretending they protect me.

It’s never in front of me,

It stays behind me.

Always behind me,

Although this is scary,

This is strangely comforting for me,

Because I know where it will always be.

This monster frightens me,

My skin tightens when it’s near,

And my heartbeat forgets its rhythm,

And becomes a broken hymn swallowed by the dark.

It’s always so close to me,

I can hear it breathing through the dark,

It’s wet and slow,

Like it’s savoring the thought of me,

It wants me hollow,

It wants me shaking,

It wants me alive long enough to enjoy,

Savoring the thought of eating me alive.

So I run away from it,

Not because I think I’ll escape,

But because stopping feels worse,

Stopping means I have to finally face it,

So I run until my legs burn,

I run until my thoughts blur,

I run until exhaustion feels like mercy.

They say if I turn around and face it,

Something different will happen,

Something new will come my way,

They say it will lose its power,

They say it feeds on my fear,

But what if they’re wrong?

What if it’s stronger when seen?

What if it’s waiting for me to finally look at it?

I can’t face it like a madman,

With eyes wide open,

Pretending to be brave,

When all I can feel is terror in my heart,

If I turn around and it’s real,

If I turn around and it smiles,

What happens after that?

I refuse to find out,

I can’t face the unknown,

I have to keep running.

And running.

And running away from it,

That’s the choice I have to choose.

It torments me in unimaginable ways,

It drags my mind through every failure,

Every unfinished dream,

Every version of myself that didn’t survive,

And I only keep running,

And enduring all the nightmares it inflicts on me.

I want to believe there’s hope,

I want to believe I’m braver than this,

But that’s just wishful thinking.

I’m stuck in my own ways,

I’m used to running from it,

I’m used to the sound it makes when it’s close,

I’m used to how it keeps me low and alone,

I’m used to it nibbling at me,

Piece by piece,

Taking things that can’t be replaced,

Until I don’t recognize what’s left of me.

This monster will always follow me.

This monster will always be behind me.

I don’t run to escape it anymore,

I run to pretend it hasn’t already won.