Kratos Marc
Wellknown Ace
She hides her eyes when she smiles,
as if joy might ask questions
she isn’t ready to answer.
Behind that curve of lips
live storms she never names.
Each tear carries a story
unspoken chapters of nights
where her heart learned
how to break quietly.
They roll down her cheeks,
slow, careful,
as if even falling must not make a sound.
They wet her lashes,
blur the edges of her eyeliner,
turn color into confession.
Not weakness
just truth leaking through
what strength can no longer hold.
Her lips begin to shiver,
then dry,
trembling between a scream
and a prayer.
Her beautiful cheeks grow pale,
as though life itself
steps back for a moment.
She wants to cry out loud
to let the world hear
how heavy breathing can become
but the sound collapses
into silence.
A sob swallowed whole.
Isn’t she allowed that freedom,
to cry without whispering?
To hurt without apology?
The tears slow down,
becoming the quietest creatures on earth,
existing without asking for comfort,
without demanding hope.
And then
no more tears.
No more sadness.
Just living.
Not because there is light,
not because there is hope,
but because even in the dark,
she is still here
breathing,
enduring,
surviving the ache
one silent moment at a time.
as if joy might ask questions
she isn’t ready to answer.
Behind that curve of lips
live storms she never names.
Each tear carries a story
unspoken chapters of nights
where her heart learned
how to break quietly.
They roll down her cheeks,
slow, careful,
as if even falling must not make a sound.
They wet her lashes,
blur the edges of her eyeliner,
turn color into confession.
Not weakness
just truth leaking through
what strength can no longer hold.
Her lips begin to shiver,
then dry,
trembling between a scream
and a prayer.
Her beautiful cheeks grow pale,
as though life itself
steps back for a moment.
She wants to cry out loud
to let the world hear
how heavy breathing can become
but the sound collapses
into silence.
A sob swallowed whole.
Isn’t she allowed that freedom,
to cry without whispering?
To hurt without apology?
The tears slow down,
becoming the quietest creatures on earth,
existing without asking for comfort,
without demanding hope.
And then
no more tears.
No more sadness.
Just living.
Not because there is light,
not because there is hope,
but because even in the dark,
she is still here
breathing,
enduring,
surviving the ache
one silent moment at a time.
