The Fall

On falling, breaking, and still breathing

Feb 04, 2026

What is left, when the heart falls
onto a skin it thought was home?

The Fall

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And there you are,
staring silently at the shards
stained with disillusion.

Dried, bitter tears
shimmer on the floor
like cherished diamonds
that meant something before:
a memory refusing to leave,
a piece of life
holding on to dear hope.

Is it hope that’s keeping you beating,
oh, my childish heart?
Too young to foresee the abyss
awaiting your fall.

You thought you had it all figured out.
What could even take you higher
than the inevitable fall
into the sweetness of love?

What could be more sublime
than the alluring pull
towards the warm skin
where you thought you belonged?

But do hearts really master
the art of thinking,
or did you simply
fool us both?

Look at us now,
my dear heart,
clueless,
alone,
swearing never to fall.
Never again.

Look at you,
slain, bleeding,
faintly beating.
Dying is not a choice.

And I…
Breathing…
within my collapsing world,
searching for obscure meanings
that might give me back my worth.
Quietly collecting diamonds
lying scattered on the floor.

P.S. I’ve just launched a new publication, Human First Journal, exploring the human experience beneath systems and labels.
The first post reflects on poverty, not as a statistic, but as a lived reality shaped by structures we rarely question.