I know
the shape of silence
when it presses against the ribs
like a question that never learned how to speak.
I know..
what it means
to hold entire storms inside a steady face,
to translate chaos into something
palatable for the world.
I know
how love can feel like gravity—
inescapable, unseen,
pulling even when nothing is returned.
&
I’m not
what they needed me to be.
Not the version that stays small,
that fits neatly into expectations
like folded paper in a labeled box.
I’m not
a fixed point,
not a simple answer,
not something that can be solved
and set aside.
I’m not broken—
just unfinished in ways
that still ache when touched.
&
I’m open
like a wound that chose healing anyway.
Like a door that learned
closing was never safety—
just loneliness with better lighting.
I’m open
to the strange, the uncertain,
the moments that don’t make sense
until they do.
I’m open
even when it costs me pieces of myself—
because love, for me,
has never been about keeping.
&
And I am a lighthouse.
Not because I am untouched by the dark—
but because I have learned
how to stand inside it
without disappearing.
I am a lighthouse
for the lost,
for the drifting,
for the ones who don’t know
if they are allowed to be seen.
I do not chase.
I do not force.
I do not leave my shore.
I simply burn—
steady, relentless,
a signal that says:
You are not alone out there.
And maybe
not every ship will turn toward me.
Maybe some will pass,
mistaking my light for something else.
That’s okay.
I was never meant
to save them all.
Only to shine
for the ones
who recognize home
when they see it. 🌊