After Sunrise

Text within this block will maintain its original spacing when publishedText within this block will maintain its original spacing when publishedA disposable camera
is often set aside
and forgotten,
even though it remains
in plain sight.

Stories
imprisoned by memory,
carrying the storm
and its shadows,
building quiet barricades,
held back by fleeting moments,
casting joy
and its admiration aside.

I feel as if a part of me,
silenced for years,
is now spilling out at once,
releasing everything
it has kept inside.

Whenever I try to step forward,
the stairs ahead
loop like a ribbon,
stitching a drop of dream
into the air’s
weightless hum.

I slept at nine in the morning
just to watch beauty unfold
at sunrise.
When the bloody orange rose,
everything looked the same,
yet nothing felt alike.Text within this block will maintain its original spacing when published

Author’s note: I keep most of my writing here free, because I believe stories should be easy to stumble into.

The videos I share take time and care to make. They’re slow, considered, and held with intention, just like the writing itself.

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