I miss all the things.
the before things.
the untouched things.
the innocent things
that had no reason to fear the dark.

i miss the way i used to wake up
not scanning for danger
before my feet even hit the floor.
i miss how silence
used to mean peace,
not punishment.
not control.
not the tension before the storm.

there was a boy once.
a real one.
he lived inside me
before the world
got sharp.
before love
became a loaded weapon.

he looked at life like a question
he couldn’t wait to answer
believed that most people
were trying their best.
that kindness was the rule,
not the exception.

he smiled
with his whole face.
he laughed
without apology.
he believed
touch meant safety
not strings.
not secrets.
not danger wrapped in warmth.

i miss that boy.
not just who he was,
but what he didn’t know.
what he hadn’t lost yet.

he didn’t flinch
when someone raised their voice.
he didn’t look for exits
in every room.
he didn’t think love
meant proving his worth
over and over
until he disappeared.

i miss trusting words
without tearing them apart
for the hidden blade inside.
i miss the joy
that wasn’t rehearsed.
wasn’t filtered
through trauma.
wasn’t a performance
for survival.

i miss the touch
of someone who meant it.
i miss arms that held me
without taking.
without twisting it into power.

i miss the way
my body once felt like home.
not a cage.
not a battlefield.

i miss the safety
that came without conditions.
the warmth
that didn’t burn.

i miss the days
when trust
wasn’t something
i had to earn
from myself.

i miss
all the things
that were taken
before i knew they were precious.
before i knew
they could vanish.

and some days,
i go looking
through old photos,
fragments of memory,
the way sunlight used to fall
through my bedroom window.

i search for him.
that boy.
i want to tell him
he didn’t die.
he was buried.
but he’s still here.
underneath the armor.
beneath the silence.
behind the eyes
that now see everything
too clearly.

and maybe
just maybe
if i speak softly enough,
if i sit still long enough,
he’ll come out again.
not as he was
but as someone who survived.
someone who still dares
to believe
in good.