His voice had never sounded so cold. He stood towering above me, eyes like blades through the wreckage of my soul. I had lost more than a battle—I had lost Caelen. Soldier. Brother-in-arms. Maybe more than that. The mission was never what it seemed, and neither was the beast we faced. An aberration cloaked in illusion, just like the shame I now wear. I killed it—or think I did. But doubt gnaws like rot. As the commander stripped me of dignity with every word, I said nothing. I stood in the silence of loss, of failure, of love left unspoken. How do you survive the moment that takes everything?

“What a blessing, and what a prison, to carry it all.” A quiet unraveling in the dead of night. For the overthinkers, the insomniacs, the ones holding everything together.

“What’s the point of loving deeply, if the ending always feels the same?” For the sleepless hearts still searching for meaning in the silence. A reflection on memory, regret, and the questions that never settle.

“You saw the rawest, most authentic version of me— and even that wasn’t enough to change you.” A poem about love that lingers long after the wound. For anyone caught between letting go and holding on.