
by Samantha Syrnich TLC
© 2025 Samantha Syrnich TLC. All Rights Reserved.
When the sky forgot my name,
I drifted into silence—
a weightless ache,
like rain with nowhere to fall.
The stars went dim,
not because they vanished,
but because my eyes
no longer reached that far.
I built my walls out of sighs,
my heart a locked garden,
each petal folded inward,
too tired to bloom again.
But even the soil remembers spring.
Even the ashes whisper—
“wait.”
There is a pulse beneath the numbness,
a single ember refusing surrender.
It beats softly,
saying,
“You have not finished becoming.”