This is not where her story ends

 

inspired by *Precious in O Block

I was not there for flesh.

Not there for lust.

I was not hunting for curves under neon lights.

I came for the sound 

basslines beating like blood in my ears,

for smoke curling like secrets in the corners of mouths,

for laughter that hides pain between puffs and poured drinks.

But I saw her.

Saw her before she saw me.

Not her hips.

Not her lips.

Not her trade.

I saw her eyes, I saw the truth.

A whisper of grace wrapped in glittering pain.

I saw through her soul like a window left open in winter.

A girl who may never have planned this path.

A woman who may be forced to make bread out of broken dreams.

So I leaned close,

not like a man with an offer,

but like a brother who sees

a sister slipping under waves.

And I said

"Queen, I apologize for what I am about to say but you do not belong to this wallpapered womb of regret.

This ain't your throne.

This ain't your song.

I don't know your past,

but I can feel your future burning behind your eyes."

She blinked.

Paused.

Swallowed the pain with the beer in her hand.

And I....

I had to leave.

Because my chest was cracking open,

my heart beat like a war drum for a soul I just met.

I ran before I cried.

But when I got home,

I did.

I cried.
And I prayed.
And I wept the way the earth does in spring
not out of weakness,
but because life demands water
for anything to grow.

I don't love her.

But I loved the child in her eyes.

The ghost of a plan never lived.

The hymn trapped in a cage of red lights and rent.

This is not where her story ends.

So I give her my whisper,

my prayer,

my poem.

Because sometimes,

a stranger’s truth

is the only bridge out of the fire.

*Name had to be changed for Privacy reasons

She Doesn't Belong Here

I walked through doors where shadows play,

Not to be lost, but drift, not stray.

Music was loud, the smoke was thick,

But something in my chest felt sick.

In the noise, the lights, the crowd,

My soul felt quiet, though life was loud.

there she sat, her eyes looked down,

A quiet queen without a crown.

No words were said, but I could tell,

She hides a story she can’t sell.

Her eyes, like glass, held silent pain,

A heavy heart caught in the rain.

I sat beside her, soft and near,

And whispered words she had to hear:

“You don’t belong in places so dark,

Your soul still holds a bright burning spark.”

“I do not know the path you chose,

Or how you bloomed among these thorns and woes,

But deep inside, you still can rise,

A fallen star can light the skies.”

She didn’t speak, just drank her beer,

But I saw truth behind her tear.

We shared a hug, then I walked out,

My heart now full, my mind in doubt.

I prayed for her beneath the moon,

I cried alone in my small room.

Why did I feel so much compassion that night?

Because her pain had matched my light.

Some souls we meet, not just by chance,

They cross our path to break the trance.

She may forget me, time may fade

But in my heart, her light has stayed.