Waves of Darkness

The shroud of darkness comes again,

quietly cloaking my skin,

soaking into every breath,

like a wave crashing

then retreating,

only to return stronger,

heavier.

I am hollow.

My thoughts echo in the empty caverns

where hope used to bloom.

Each day feels painstaking,

each step like trudging through quicksand,

and all I crave is ease,

a release from this weight.

I want help,

a hand to pull me from the depths,

eyes that see the depths of me,

truly see,

not just the fractured pieces,

but the whole of my heart.

I long to be cherished,

held in someone’s gaze

like I matter,

like I am enough.

For once,

I want to be accepted,

loved for who I am

without trying to reshape myself

into something more.

I want to be wanted.

Needed.

Desired.

To feel the warmth of connection

pierce through this cold emptiness,

to feel alive,

to breathe in the spark of someone who stays,

who chooses to walk beside me

through this journey,

to carry some of this burden.

But here, in the silence, I wonder—

is that meant for me?

Or will I always be alone,

adrift in this sea,

searching for a shore

that may never come?

I reach out,

but my hands grasp at shadows,

fingers slipping through the illusion of comfort.

The world is noisy,

but I am unheard, unseen,

a ghost drifting through the crowds,

craving touch,

yet met with the emptiness of air.

What would it feel like

to be held—not in arms,

but in someone's heart?

To be wanted,

not for what I can give,

but for the simple act of being,

just breathing, existing—enough.

The weight of loneliness sits heavy,

pressing against my chest,

a constant ache,

a silent scream.

I wonder if I am destined

to carry it alone,

if love, like the stars,

is something I can only admire from a distance.

Still, I hold on to the fragile hope

that somewhere,

someone waits for me too,

lost in their own waves,

searching for the shore,

yearning for the same connection,

the same breath of life

to pull us both from the depths.