Behind The Mask

When the world falls silent,

and shared moments fade,

an ache opens in my chest—

where light once erupted,

only a hollow pit remains.

In the stillness,

regrets and what-ifs creep in.

A quiet darkness seeps through,

asking not to be banished,

but to be seen,

to have its story held.

It is simple to welcome the light,

with its warmth and laughter.

But true strength is tested

when we turn toward the shadows

and do not run.

It would be easier to look away,

to silence what stirs beneath.

Yet darkness is no enemy—

it is a mirror of hidden truths,

the face we fear to meet.

Who am I if I let this darkness in?

What does it mean if I hold it close,

as tenderly as the light?

The questions circle endlessly,

always avoiding the heart of it:

that accountability is raw,

and vulnerability, relentless.

We are all cowards at times.

Every triumph, every joy,

is woven with secret threads of pain.

Facing ourselves

is the hardest work we will ever do.

The world may glimpse a radiant smile,

but beneath it the trembling never stills.

Because we all long to be seen.

Behind the masks we sculpt so carefully,

we ache for someone to look past them.

Just as the darkness does.

And when the day ends,

when the weight of pretending falls away,

we yearn—desperately—to be truly known.

So tell me, darkness—

what do you reveal?

What corners of me do you wish to light?

Perhaps in embracing you,

I will uncover the self

that has always waited to be seen.

Perhaps you and the light

were never opposites at all,

but halves of the same truth.