Half-Light / Embers

I. Half-Light


I am a ghost in my own skin,

a flicker between breaths,

hanging on to the edge of a pill

as if it were a cliff’s root,

white-knuckled and ashamed.


The night tastes of iron and static;

my thoughts scatter like birds

spooked from an empty field.

I don’t want to live.

But I don’t want to leave

the few who still reach for me

in the dark.


Their care

is a small, steady lantern.

I see it through the fog

and hate myself

for dimming it.


This body, this mind,

wired to ache and unravel—

it whispers quit.

But something,

a pulse,

a memory,

a thread of light

keeps whispering stay.


I don’t call it hope.

I don’t call it healing.

It’s just a ragged, trembling breath

that keeps me here,

a half-light for the half-living,

waiting for a dawn

I cannot yet imagine

but haven’t quite

let go.


II. Embers


And yet—

beneath the ash,

a coal still glows.

Small as a heartbeat,

but warm enough

to thaw one fingertip at a time.


The night does not last forever,

even when it feels endless.

It is stitched with stars—

tiny, persistent lights

that do not demand my joy,

only my noticing.


Their lanterns

are not dimmed by my darkness;

they hold them steady

so I can find my way

back to myself.


I am not the wound

but the one still breathing through it.

Not the ghost

but the one still reaching

for a hand, a word, a dawn.


And maybe this half-light

isn’t failure—

maybe it’s survival.

A fragile, fierce thing

that says:


stay.

rest.

wait.

there is more.


*If you’re hurting right now: You are not alone. If you’re thinking about suicide, feeling hopeless, or just need someone to listen, help is available 24/7. In the U.S. you can call or text 988 to reach the Suicide & Crisis Lifeline — trained listeners are there anytime, day or night. If you’re outside the U.S., visit https://www.iasp.info/resources/Crisis_Centres/ to find hotlines in your country.

You matter. Your life matters. Please reach out.

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