Andromeda

Words. Words that should never be spoken. Words that should not exist. Words that hurt and kill slowly, like the poison of everyday life. Words.

Words have power. The power.

The hierarchy.

That controls me like an inverted marionette.

Gal’s voice I hear.

But she is dead.

And so am I.

Inside, slowly the spirit dies.The body is the dead peel of a rotting apple.

The dark, blue, and slow flame of time that refuses to pass — treacherous.

And everything I once was, was swallowed by the throat of the one I once loved.

Choked on the scream he never released.On the criticism he made sure to spit out.

I tried — I tried to be soft, like the silence of an empty field.

But I was broken, dry, like a sapless branch.

My petals withered before spring could even arrive.

Andromeda, my name is of a star, a planet. Starry sky. Death, life. All of it in a never-ending spiral. Give me your soul.

And even when the night feels far too long,I remember: stars only shine in the dark.

I am Andromeda — chaos and beauty, loss and rebirth.

Burning slowly, spinning endlessly.

I don’t ask you to understand my soul.

I only ask that you feel it, like someone staring into the sky and, in silence, recognizing:

there is something there that can’t be explained,but must be respected.

And so, it remains.