03

what i knew without being told

the house cracked before i learned to name the sound.

mother’s voice turned to wind, father’s shadow stretched thinner each dawn.

i was told to guard the small dreams — to hush the cries, to keep the world from waking.

their love fell apart quietly, like a prayer half-whispered, half-forgotten.

they left in search of something holy, but returned only with silence.

i grew up between two ghosts, who still called it home.

and somehow, i still knew — they loved us, in the only way they could