The Nowhere Place

 

There’s a place I walk that isn’t on any map—

where time slows and the sky forgets to change.

Not quite past, not yet future.

Just the aching stillness of in-between.

I once carried fire in my chest,

a belief that even darkness ends.

But somewhere along the quiet drift,

hope thinned into shadow,

and I mistook silence for safety.

Now the stars are too far to follow,

and the ground hums with memories I never made.

I don’t cry anymore—

not out of strength,

but because even sorrow feels like a language

I’ve forgotten how to speak.

I’m not looking for light.

Not anymore.

Only a place to set down the weight of waiting.

Only a name for this endless wandering

through the nowhere place

that used to be me.