Solitude in Green and Red

Hey reader! Thank you for all your love and support on my previous posts. I am here with a new piece for you. This one's especially close to my heart. I am not just giving you a poem here, I am giving you a piece of me.

In the green stillness of my walls,

where red wallpaper shields

the creeping whispers of mold,

I sit, feet cocooned, unseen,

beneath a quilted veil of silence.

Paintings bloom and brood around me—

a bird in flight, fragile with hope,

a rose, blood-rich in petaled joy.

And there, an eagle sharp in shadow,

a woman drowning in her own tears.

Art that breathes, yet remains unsold,

its worth eclipsed by empty echoes

of contact lists I never owned.

God, why did you fold the world away

and leave me

to press my fingers into the void?

But—ah, the quiet revelation:

no daughter tethered to her father’s name,

no wife stitched to a husband's fame.

I am just myself:

a girl who paints her dreams alive,

who carves henna rivers on skin,

whose hair cascades like dark silk,

whose cheeks bloom like spring,

whose smile bends light into meaning.

Loneliness has edges,

but also wings.

It has taught me

to wear my name alone,

not borrowed or inherited,

but painted,

bold,

on the canvas of my own becoming.

Let me know how you find it in the comments section below.