How to Disappear

First, forget the time of day,

let seconds softly slip away.

Unhook the moon, unmake the sun—

convince your heart the race is done.

Then, take your name and fold it slow,

let every letter learn to go.

A whisper now, not quite a scream—

you’re trading fact for fevered dream.

Refuse the mirror, dodge the light,

let quiet carve away your fight.

Sink deeper still—don’t try to swim,

let edges blur and colors dim.

Say softly: wake me when it’s through,

when skies are dark, not split in two.

This world is cracked, this skin’s too tight—

I’ll see you on the other side of night.

Forget the path, forget the place,

forget the mask you called your face.

No doors, no keys—just silent streams,

and gentle folds of broken dreams.

And when they ask where you have gone,

say nothing back — just carry on.

The stars will know the path you take,

the sky will bend, but never break.