Nightmares of the Soul

Nightmares of the Soul

The night is a tender liar.
It hums soft songs to the fragile ones,knowing they will listen,
because silence is louder when it belongs to no one.

I wake in hours I should be sleeping, with old ghosts pulling at my ribs,
their hands warm, familiar,

like a dear friend before time taught them other languages,

ones that didn't have a word for me.

It's strange, how the mind keeps bruises in places the body can't touch. 
I carry rooms inside myself where no one lives anymore, but the windows still rattle at night.

Some hurts don't bleed, they sit in the throat, 

the way old songs do when you forget the verses but remember how it felt.

I have made a museum of my regrets, each memory hung like oil paintings in a gallery no one visits but me.
And some nights, I trace the outlines with my finger, naming each one quietly
as if speaking them aloud could make them less sharp.

The world is a kind of cruelty for those who feel too much.
They say to let go, but they forget that some things are made of bone, not air.

You don't let go of bone, you bury it.
And even then, it remembers the shape of you.

Author's Note

Reviews are appreciated :)

Reviews

[John the Baptist]

"You don't let go of bone, you bury it." This offering gives a description of the tyranny of the past better than any I have seen previously on this site. The image of the museum of regrets captures exactly the way many relate to the negatives of past years. I did note, however, a sort of prisoner mentality here. If we believe in the omnipotence of our jailers, they will never let us go.

[M 💕]

Thank you for your review! And you're right about the prisoners mentality, there is a prisoner’s shadow lingering in these lines. But perhaps this poem was less a confession of captivity and more a quiet ritual of remembering. Some ghosts don’t leave because they’ve shaped the rooms we live in. And while I agree that we can grant too much power to our jailers, I’ve also found that naming them, tracing their outlines in the dark, is its own kind of soft defiance. I once read a line 'Sometimes it is hard to let go of some things, even of pain, because the pain is the only memory we have left of it.' and I think that this is true, we should be able to let go of things to move forward, but sometimes it isn't so easy. Thank you so much for taking time to read and reflect on this! It truly means a lot.

[Lara]

This is great description of emotion embodied. Thoroughly depicted! And thoroughly affective reading.
I like this! Darn good writing and expression. Imo 🫶

[M 💕]

Aww, thank you so muchhh! This means a lot, I'm glad you liked it 🩷🫶🏼