syllyrix

[syllyrix]

4 a.m.

Trash bags full

of everything we know,

thrown in the back of the car.

Hurry up.

What am I going to leave behind?

Wrists weak,

mind blank as I

shove one last thing inside.

Hurry up.

Where are we going to sleep tonight?

The road’s a blur,

street lamps and

passing cars.

Shush.

Will I go to school tomorrow?

Tires hum,

a cruel lullaby.

Your voice breaks

as you plead.

Shush.

-r.l.

[syllyrix]

I can't talk. Not because I don't know how, but when eyes lock onto mine it's not just their gaze I feel, it's the weight of the universe pressing down on my skull, reminding me I'm here bare and existing.

Words swirl inside my brain, chasing each other like shadows in a storm. When I reach for them they tangle in my chest, a knot too tight to breathe through.

Eyes keep staring, waiting, and I'm frozen, trying to swallow the weight lodged in my throat. But only fragments ever escape, broken and brittle, like splintered glass falling from my lips.

And with each new face, I wonder, When will they notice? How long until they see?

Eventually, they stop asking. Eventually, I stop trying.

I can't talk, but when I'm alone, where no eyes can follow, the knot loosens, the storm calms. Words flood me, untangled, and I can finally breathe.

But even then, I ponder: Will I ever be free?

- r.l.

[syllyrix]

[syllyrix]

Maybe I learned too early that trust is a volatile blessing, fragile as rose petals brushed by winter's icy breath. One moment it shimmers, the next, it shatters like sand.

I've learned to guard myself, weaving walls of stone around my soul, sturdy and wide and tall, a haven for my heart to lie untouched and asleep.

Yet, on one of those nights pitch dark and still, where tiny lights flicker through the silent chill, you emerged as a comet in the void, all sweet and caring and kind, gently tugging at strings rooted deep in my mind.

Suddenly, you’re knocking at my walls, your touch unfazed by my trembling resolve. And now I'm lost, unsure of it all, because, honestly, I kind of want to fall, I yearn for you to unearth me, to strip away the gleam, expose the raw and the unseen.

But what if loving you means losing control? What if I lean in, and you let go? What if I burn in the fire we spark, and end up bruised, lost in the dark? I cannot rely on someone else’s strength, fearful of needing you just to feel whole once again.

Because when I need, I need too much, and every word, every look, every touch becomes a pathway engraved deep down in me, a map of where love might cease to be.

So as you look at me beneath the starlit sky, I step away, carrying the hope that someday, when the world feels right, our paths will intertwine

one more time.

-r.l

[syllyrix]

In Your Shadow

The day I was born, you were alone at home. He left you there, barely out of your teens, while he was off playing pool with his friends, like it was any other day. I imagine you pacing the living room, unsure whether to call him or wait, your hands cradling your belly as you looked at the clock. I wonder if you were scared, I wonder if you thought you could change him or if in that moment, alone bringing me into the world, you realized you had made a mistake.

I was two and I slept on his chest, snow a quiet blanket outside, while you curled up at his side. You spoke your dream of three children, a vision cherished since you were a little girl. He was unmoved, his words like shards of glass piercing your heart: “It’s up to you. You’ll be the one taking care of them.” Reality slapped you back to silence as you rose and gently pulled me away from his arms.

I was three, and my fingers were sticky from candy. I remember because you said, “Don’t touch anything,” but when I saw the tears on your face, I wiped them away anyway. You looked at me with a half smile, the one that didn't quite reach your eyes. I kissed your cheek, because that’s what you always did when I was hurt. You held me close.

I was four, sitting on the floor outside the door. I was supposed to be asleep, but I could hear you shouting. You said you’d leave him, his dry laughter louder than all your words. I didn’t understand why he laughed. Maybe it was a joke. But you weren’t laughing and it felt like a punch in my stomach. When he came back that night he brought me a stuffed toy, hidden under his coat. You smiled.

I was five, perched on the kitchen counter, you told me to stay inside. There was a woman by the window, standing too close to him. You were there too, but you looked far away, like you were somewhere out of reach. The next day, you pulled me out of the swimming pool early. My hair was still wet when we got in the car, a curtain between the two us. I liked swimming. But the drive home was quiet, and when he said, “I love you,” It sounded like something had broken inside.

I was six when you found him drunk in bed next to me. He was asleep, but I was wide awake, frozen beside him. You shook him hard, like you were trying to wake up from a bad dream too. His breath stunk, just like the bottles he kept under the sink. I didn’t know what was wrong, but your hands were shaking, and mine were too. I had school in three hours, and you put me in bed with you. You cried a lot that night buried in your pillow. I held you tight. Later, he bought me a bike, yellow and white. I felt a fleeting burst of joy against the backdrop of our troubles. Love and fear danced before my eyes as I pedaled away trying to outrun the shadows.

I was seven when we packed everything we had, which wasn’t much. You said we were going to stay at Grandma’s house. The car smelled like wet grass and stale coffee. When you said you were happy we were leaving, your eyes were red. I smiled and said I was happy too, but I didn’t believe it. You said you wished you could go back to when you were sixteen, when you weren’t so afraid. I told you that you didn’t have to be afraid because I was there with you. You smiled, but it was the kind of smile that fades before it reaches your gaze. It didn't last long though, you fought with your parents too. A few months later, we were back. You said it was for the best. I didn’t ask what that meant.

I was eight and he took us for ice cream at that nice place down the road. I had insisted so much he finally gave in. It was a good day. You remembered the old times, talked about love at first sight. I liked those days when your face softened and you said it wasn’t really that bad, like you were trying to make the story better. But even then, I knew love wasn’t supposed to feel like walking on eggshells.

I was nine when I came home from school, and you were sitting on the couch, staring at nothing. You said he’d lost all the money on that foolish game, the one that made him angry when he didn’t win. But you looked like you’d lost way more than that. You said you should’ve left him a long time ago. I wanted to ask why you didn’t. I stayed silent. He even sold your old necklace. I remember how shiny it was, and how your face looked when you saw it was gone. I wanted to find it for you, but I didn’t know where to look. The blows he threw weren't just at you; they always felt like they were aimed at me too.

I was ten when I begged because I wanted him to stay. Angry at your tired gaze as you watched him leave with that resigned look across your face, like you were used to it, like this was just how things were. I still believed if I held on tight enough, he wouldn’t go. That maybe, if I stood between him and the door, he’d stay just for me. I clutched at the sleeve of his jacket, but he tore my hands away. I tumbled to the floor as he slammed the door and walked away. You crouched down beside me, I could feel your warmth. You wiped my face gently with the sleeve of your sweater. “He’ll be back,” you said. I wanted to hate him so bad, and eventually, I did. But you never spoke ill of him. "He loves you in his own way," you told me the day he left again. Your voice was steady, but your eyes—they always gave you away.

I was eleven when he lost his job. You didn’t tell me right away, but I heard you on the phone with Aunt. You were crying quietly, your voice hushed like you didn’t want me to hear. “I don’t know what to do,” you whispered. I pressed my ear against the door, listening. You talked about bills, about how you didn’t have enough to make it work this time. Aunt said you should leave him; you didn’t say anything. She sent money for rent, but he used it on his game instead. The next day, the lights went out and you said we had to leave. I was happy, naive.

At twelve, we moved to Grandma’s house. It was early June, and you took me out of school. You looked defeated; I knew you didn't like it here—I could see it in the way you avoided everyone’s gaze. There were so many people that day; you came from a family of too many children. You told me a lot about lost opportunities and never studying—"It wasn’t for girls like me," you said, almost like you were ashamed. You talked about marriage as escape. And surrounded by all those unwelcoming faces, I felt the hollowness of belonging nowhere.

At thirteen, my room was bigger, but I had nothing to fill it with. We had sold almost everything just to get by. The emptiness of it mirrored the uncertainty I felt inside. I didn’t like this place either, and downstairs the arguments rattled the walls while I threw anxious glances at the door. I never felt brave enough. Each night, I stared at the mold-littered ceiling and imagined the universe and its stars as I prayed for a small corner of peace. A place we could call our own, one where we could feel secure and at home.

At fourteen, you pulled a small stash of cash from your closet. It wasn't much—a few crumpled bills and loose change. It was all you managed to save. You shoved it in my hands while you said, "These are yours, and if anything ever happens, he must never know." In that moment, our world’s instability lay bare beneath my feet. Tears filled my eyes as thoughts I wasn't ready to face swirled relentlessly in my mind. You kissed my forehead and whispered, “Don’t cry.”

At fifteen, I told you I wished I'd never been born, angry at the life you decided to bring me into. Those words I still regret to this day. The pain on your face is etched deep in memory. “I’m sorry” you said. “I didn’t mean it” I wailed. That night I fell asleep in your embrace.

At sixteen, I asked you why you didn't leave. You paused, your eyes heavy with years of holding on. “Sometimes it’s easier to stay than to walk away,” your voice faltered as you added, “It wasn’t just me I had to choose for.” Your words hung heavy in the air. I wanted to argue, tell you I never asked for that, but I hesitated because I already knew how each of our days must have felt like a mistake you couldn’t undo, and deep down, I wondered if you regretted my birth too.

At seventeen, he was gambling and drinking his life away again. Hours would pass and we would never know where he went. One day, we made pizza and watched TV—just me and you. While we ate quietly on the couch, you asked why I never went out. “Go have fun with friends,” you told me with a smile. But truth was, anxiety chained me to those four walls. I couldn't leave you behind, all your struggles becoming mine as I was your shadow day and night. I nodded, though, didn’t want to burden you anymore. To this day, I’d still surrender my life to ease your pain, and I know you’d do just the same.

As I turned eighteen, I didn’t feel like an adult at all. And now, even though I’m older, I still don’t. I wear all those years like thin layers of tender skin, perpetually bleeding. But as the world moves on and I stand still, everything so fragile and elusive, I realize something you once said has stuck with me: “You must love yourself first.” I didn’t understand it then, but now I see you weren’t just speaking to me, but also to that young girl who dreamed of a home, three children, and warmth. You were speaking to the woman who never had the chance to be loved the way she deserved. And so, as I look at you from across this room, I believe I can do it, not just for myself but for us both, for everything we went through, for the longest time—just me and you; I can learn, albeit slowly, to step out from your shadow and find my own way forward. Maybe, just maybe, we can both learn to live for ourselves one day, without the weight of the past dragging us back to this dark place.

[syllyrix]

You

Every time I kiss your cotton-candy lips, you turn to clay, filling the spaces between my bones, teasing the void with your relentless touch.

Supple hands, delicate as silk, shape my disarray, careful fingertips grazing just right, seeping into the cracks where shadows hide, sculpting the contours of my being.

As time blurs and the only clock ticking is your heart beating against mine, I seamlessly sink into the crisp depths of your eyes.

With each breath we share, a warmth I never knew melts like honey across my skin— teeth clashing, tongues tender, soothing the silent ache of what remains unhealed.

Peaceful in how you fit so perfectly into all the fragmented parts of me.

I linger in the wake of your embrace, in this fleeting solace, I am still a fractured soul, perhaps never to be mended, but forever marked by you.

- r.l

[syllyrix]

Glued to the pages of that old black diary, memories of a past I barely recognize, a toothless grin goes from ear to ear.

There was so much life, so much time.

I never got to know the little girl I used to be. I am her. She is me.

Still, there's a void I cannot fill, a coldness that crawls just beneath my skin, poisonous emptiness that runs deep within.

I've missed so many things. I will never be complete, not after everything you took away from me.

So I sit and think about everything she could have been,

if only you had let her be.

- r.l

[syllyrix]

I spend each day of my existence struggling to keep pace with life’s relentless march, constantly trailing behind, entangled in an unending loop of doubt.

You never see the weight I bear, or the self-loathing that gnaws at me, as I circle back again and again losing sleep, retracing every misstep.

All you see are my mistakes and the opportunities that slipped away, as if witnessing my falter is a heavier burden for you than it is for me, powerless to alter the course of my endless drift.

I’m uncertain how I’ll endure another day of obsessions that ensnare my mind. So tell me, please, how can I envision tomorrow when today is a labyrinth of relentless fears?

I wish I could share the passions and desires that once ignited me the moments of joy and freedom that now feel like echoes of a distant life.

A life that faded before my eyes, dreams dissolving like sandcastles under the ceaseless tide of uncertainty a soul’s quiet demise, leaving only a breathing shell behind.

I remain silent instead, knowing I have no place in this world. I stay silent because my inability to escape this torment tortures me. But the fact that all you perceive is failure and blame weighs heavier still.

- r.l

[syllyrix]

A barren land, drained to the core, burnt down, robbed of its most precious treasures, strained, beaten, exhausted, defeated.

But you don't think about it; it's the price you swore to pay.

His litany of endearing promises resonates throughout your mind, a tempting security in a world infected with hate.

You're an angry, scared little girl once again.

- r.l

[syllyrix]

Sometimes

I still want to cut my skin open, watching droplets of angry red seep through, feeling lighter with each minute that passes.

Sometimes

I can still feel a rope around my neck, tightening just enough to numb the thoughts.

Sometimes

I still see myself on the edge of a cliff, then suddenly I'm flying, the wind harshly slapping every naked inch of skin.

I'm free.

- r.l

[syllyrix]

I don’t even have space for myself inside this heart, inside this mind, inside these tangled thoughts of mine.

Guess you need to compromise in order to survive.

It always feels like it’s too much, but is it ever enough?

I tried to push you into these thoughts, spilled them out so you could feel, sought a place just for you and me, fed you words even though I don't know what they mean.

Because I’m a stranger to my own self, that’s why I can’t let you in.

- r.l

[syllyrix]

Hai presente quando ti guardo e sorrido, ti prendo il viso fra le mani e ti bacio così forte che quasi perdi l’equilibrio?

[syllyrix]

Da bambina credevo che la luna mi seguisse ovunque andassi, come una guardiana imponente e silenziosa, a proteggermi dai mostri nascosti nel buio della notte, rendendo il mio cammino più dolce e sicuro.

Oggi, tu sei la mia luna, e sei tutte le mie stelle.

[syllyrix]

They make plans I know I won’t attend.

[syllyrix]

Cold fingertips

trace the shape of our bodies,

melted in the fog.

A last breath,

shaken by the winter wind,

leaves your clenched teeth.

It dances in the air,

before caressing my lips.

Puffy red, dead eyes

watch as you slip,

disjointed

from me.

[syllyrix]

Succede all’improvviso, mi salti in mente e d’istinto sorrido.