Erosia

There’s something about the way light hits that wall,how it finds a vine and casts its shadow like it’s telling a story
only I would notice.
And maybe that’s who I am.
The one who notices.

Some days, I don’t know if I’m growing or just surviving, but either way, I keep reaching,
like this vine, toward whatever light I can find.
Even if it’s just a crack in the blinds.
I make songs from the ache,
the beauty,
the quiet battles no one sees.
I want people to feel something real.
Something holy.
Like goosebumps when you remember you’re not alone.