Time doesn’t move like it used to.
It drips instead.
A slow leak from some broken part of me
I can’t name, can’t fix.
Some days, I feel it pooling in my chest.
Others, it just seeps out—
Through cracked eyes, through unfinished thoughts.
Through all the words I meant to say to them
Before the quiet took over.
They told me time heals.
But they didn’t say,
It would also hollow.
That it would leave space so wide.
You could scream inside.
And never hear yourself echo.
And yet, here I am.
Not healed.
But here.