No
light
Alone.
Shadows grow.
Hope thins to a thread.
Even breath feels like borrowed time.
But then—soft as dusk rain—something stirs within the ache.
Not joy, not yet, but the memory of warmth: a reason to wait.
One cracked window in the mind lets in wind, and with it, the scent of tomorrow.
Thank you for reading, liking, and commenting to my posts. It is very appreciated.
I am currently raising money to pay for ongoing psychotherapy. I am a survivor of complex trauma, I have dissociative identity disorder, and complex PTSD. Therapy can be very expensive.
If you feel like donating to my fund you can donate using pay pal. My pay pal email for donating is:
Don’t feel you have to, there is no pressure, but I’m grateful for any donations that are received.
Again thanks for visiting!
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