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Oblivion
<p><br/></p><p>Oblivion is not silence—</p><p>it’s the echo after screaming</p><p>when your throat finally gives up.</p><p>It’s the place grief crawls to</p><p>when it’s too exhausted to haunt you properly.</p><p><br/></p><p>It’s the quiet place</p><p>where memories go to soften.</p><p>Not gone—</p><p>just blurred at the edges,</p><p>like ink left in the rain.</p><p><br/></p><p>It lives between forgetting and remembering,</p><p>a thin, cruel line</p><p>where faces blur but the feelings stay sharp.</p><p>I forget your voice,</p><p>but my body still knows how to flinch.</p><p><br/></p><p>Oblivion is where love goes</p><p>after it rots.</p><p>Not dead—</p><p>just unrecognizable.</p><p>A carcass picked clean by time,</p><p>bones polished by indifference.</p><p><br/></p><p>They say oblivion is empty.</p><p>They’re lying.</p><p>It’s crowded with almosts,</p><p>with apologies that arrived too late,</p><p>with versions of me</p><p>that didn’t survive you.</p><p><br/></p><p>Oblivion is not emptiness.</p><p>It’s mercy.</p><p>A dim room where pain learns</p><p>how to whisper instead of scream.</p><p><br/></p><p>It smells like old books and midnight air,</p><p>like names you no longer flinch at,</p><p>like loving something</p><p>without bleeding over it anymore</p><p><br/></p><p>It tastes like numbness,</p><p>metallic and dry,</p><p>like biting your tongue on purpose</p><p>just to feel something real.</p><p>Like choosing pain</p><p>because pain at least listens.</p><p><br/></p><p>In oblivion, I am neither healed nor broken.</p><p>I am paused.</p><p>Suspended in the aftermath,</p><p>learning how to exist</p><p>without hoping for rescue.</p><p><br/></p><p>This is where I bury your name—</p><p>not with flowers,</p><p>but with dirt under my nails</p><p>and a promise never to dig you up again.</p><p><br/></p><p>Some people fear oblivion.</p><p>I think it’s where healing hides</p><p>when it’s tired of being brave.</p><p><br/></p><p>Oblivion is not peace.</p><p>It’s restraint.</p><p>It’s me walking away</p><p>with my heart still bleeding,</p><p>refusing to let it stain the floor anymore.</p><p><br/></p><p>And maybe one day,</p><p>even this place will forget me.</p><p>But until then,</p><p>oblivion is the only thing</p><p>that doesn’t ask me</p><p>to forgive.</p>
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