Learning How to Be Broken

I woke up tired of my own name,

the mirror doesn’t recognize me anymore.

Your ghost still rents my air at night,

and I pay it back with sleepless hours and a shaking voice.

The room learned how to stay empty

even though nothing really moved,

some silences scream louder

than everything we ever proved.

It wasn’t just that you walked away,

it was losing my direction too,

when love leaves without warning

life forgets what it’s supposed to do.

That’s how you learn to be sad,

like learning how to smoke:

first it burns, then it soothes you,

then you don’t know when to stop.

It’s not that I love the darkness,

the light just stopped looking for me,

I made peace with being tired

and declared war on belief.

I walk through crowds of living people,

I’m here but permanently gone,

everyone’s arriving somewhere,

I just collect goodbyes and songs.

They say “time will fix it all,”

what a beautiful way to lie,

some clocks only move forward

to remind you what has died.

This isn’t drama, isn’t weakness,

it’s getting lost while trying hard,

when love turns into absence

depression pulls up a chair and stays.

That’s how you learn to be sad,

like learning how to fall:

first the fear, then the habit,

then you don’t feel it at all.

I didn’t quit on living,

living quit quietly on me,

I was just exhausted

from pretending I was free.

If you see me smiling, don’t believe it,

it’s just muscle memory at work,

hope feels heavy in my hands now,

even breathing sometimes hurts.

I’m not asking to be saved,

I just want to feel again,

maybe one day I’ll remember

who I was before the pain.