Suffocated

Like bitterness pressed against the lips, it is the absence of love festering in the chest. It is the refusal to untie the knots, to free oneself from what destroys.

From the most beautiful story — of love turned to hatred. From the prayers I once tore from myself, from tales that life never allowed me to live.

If I do not feel it, it never existed.

Of all the words I consumed, only lost fragments remain.

I do not find myself — I have been shaped into a clean sin, one that amplifies my failures and sinks into what remains of my love, mourning the ease with which I could have escaped without saying goodbye.

A creation born of our fears and silences. A distorted image of what life demands we become. But if I truly feel, I tear myself from you. And if it ever truly existed, then perhaps one day I will smile — coldly, without forgiveness, without the scars that scratch your face and anchor my steps in failure.

I have long abandoned the idea of truth. Everything that resists, everything that judges — I have discarded. I lose myself in faith, only to find my reflection in sin.

In the dark, where I collapse without witnesses, where breath rots under the weight of pain —. there, I persist. And the abysses that swallowed me, you will never dare to tread.

A dead innocence, barely believable. When I am gone, when this existence is erased to keep the old mistakes from repeating,

I hope I will not recognize myself. I hope I will not remember who I was. I will erase every step I ever took.

You are incapable of hatred. I am incapable of healing. Opposing forces, destined to dissolve.

I leave behind all that seduces and all that destroys. The secrets rot inside me — and one day, when we face each other,

I will deny them, one by one.

One by one, my desires will collapse into silence.

And when the curtains — soaked in blood — finally fall, there will be no more war between pleasure and hatred.

I will simply disappear.

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