Poetry

 When my alveoli first met you  it began  a slow burn into my soul, letting your poison dance in my chest, knowing  you'd leave me hollow. I let your fog settle in the lungs of my hope. every inhale, you always helped me cope. My body remembers, the intimacy of every puff, every ache, every empty space,  you left behind. You're not just ruling my chest, but the neurons that whispers dopamine.                                                            -crystal

"She just got lucky", they say, while her heart bleeds sweat and tears, longing for at least a towel to wipe her hard work off that runs through each cell of her blood. They call it luck because they can't bear to name what they never dared to chase. They didn't see her dreams being stitched together for the thousandth time, hushing her loudest nights. So she just walks, tired but unbent, her silence louder than their applause could ever be.                                                          -crystal