Veins of Midnight
A journey through the quiet storms we carry when no one is watching
The daylight stretches thin across her shoulders,
Coffee cold in chipped mugs,
Loose papers scattered like fallen leaves,
Shadows creeping from corners no one remembers.
**
She walks on tiptoe through invisible flames,
A puzzle with missing pieces,
Giggles escape before she can catch them,
And she wears her awkwardness like a crown of thorns.
**
Tears hide in the creases of her palms,
Her thoughts are restless, unfinished conversations,
A map of regrets etched behind her eyes,
While she smiles, unknowingly, at ghosts passing by.
**
She organizes her chaos meticulously,
Every habit a thin armor,
No one notices the tremor beneath her calm,
Or the weight she carries like unwanted heirlooms.
**
Every heartbeat writes a confession she cannot speak,
A history of silent battles,
Steel entwined with fragility,
Her resolve trembling in borrowed courage.
**
Night becomes her sanctuary,
The moon witnesses what the sun cannot,
Dreams stir the shadows she keeps chained,
And her fears parade across her eyelids like wild horses.
**
She rises again, assembling the fragments of herself,
A quiet rebellion against the chaos within,
The world sees composure,
But she knows the storm never truly ends.
**
She is not the heroine foretold in stories,
Not the champion of anyone’s imagination,
Just a woman learning the language of her own scars,
Finding light in places the world forgot to look,
And discovering, in the folds of darkness,
That surviving is an art she is slowly mastering.
***
Thank you for reading. If this piece resonated with you, I’d love for you to explore my other work. Don’t forget to subscribe to stay updated on new stories and poems that dive into the unseen corners of the human heart.
About the Creator
Aarsh Malik
Poet, Storyteller, and Healer.
Sharing self-help insights, fiction, and verse on Vocal.
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More stories from Aarsh Malik and writers in Poets and other communities.
Finding Yourself Again
There comes a moment when you stop trying to rewrite the past because you realize it isn’t coming back the way it left. You’ve outgrown versions of yourself you didn’t even know you were shedding — through endings you didn’t choose, through changes you weren’t ready for, through every silent ache that taught you how to breathe again.
By Aarsh Malik2 months ago in Poets
Comments (12)
Beautiful! So may wonderful lines describing this person’s pain and struggle. The weight she carries like unwanted heirlooms. I especially loved the ending. Great job!
beautifully haunting...every line feels like a quiet storm whispered in ink 🌙✨
Love how they are learning to heal themselves
This is great, sir. I enjoy the dichotomies, especially the idea of organized chaos. I hadn't subscribed to you previously but I have now. I'm Bill. It's a pleasure. I'll read more of your art soon. ⚡💙 ⚡
Well-wrought! Great heroic deeds get all the glory, but to struggle humbly and quietly toward a greater good in the face of the massive evils of the world is far braver.
I love this character, learning to heal herself and learn her ways around her wounds. I can relate to it so much. Very well written, Aarsh!
I feel so seen. This one gut-punched me. Excellent work.
I love how there is no sense of her giving up, just always learning how to be.
This is so lovely, so many layers to a person ☺
This poem is a powerful reminder that the greatest battles are often fought in silence, and mastering the art of surviving is a profound and heroic achievement.
The woman always moves like a shadow, and no one knows what she hides inside her. Perhaps the worst demons, perhaps the most beautiful flowers. In any case, over time, she learns to protect herself. :))
This is so relatable, that quiet chaos feeling really comes through. Loved this.