33 Poems for Healing the Soul
I didn’t write Healing Thoughts II from a place of comfort. I wrote it when the nights got too long and the silence got too heavy. After the first book came out, I stopped.
I didn’t write Healing Thoughts II from a place of comfort.
I wrote it when the nights got too long and the silence got too heavy.
After the first book came out, I stopped.
Stopped posting.
Stopped writing.
Told myself it was rest.
It wasn’t.
The quiet turned into something darker.
I could feel the old patterns crawling back.
So I did the only thing that has ever kept me standing.
I wrote my way out.
One page at a time.
Some pages felt like they were holding me together.
Here’s one of them:
The Ocean Between Our Mouths
Once,
our feet shared the same sand.
We spoke in salt-sweet breaths,
close enough to taste the air
between our words.
Now,
an ocean lives where our voices used to meet.
Not water,
but every word I swallowed,
every truth you let slip beneath the tide.
It rises between us,
wave upon wave
of what we never said.
I see you
on that far-off shore,
a figure blurred by distance,
your mouth a question I no longer hear.
My throat aches
with all the bridges I never built.
Below, the water is heavy.
Currents pull at my ankles,
regrets,
assumptions,
fears too jagged to name.
Old shipwrecks of honesty
rot quietly in the dark,
their broken ribs tangled in seaweed,
their cargo lost.
And still,
I stand here,
letting the tide carry my voice away,
again, and again,
as if the waves could speak for me,
as if the silence will save us
from drowning.
I wonder:
If I shouted now,
would the ocean hush long enough
for you to hear?
Or would it swallow my voice whole,
like it has every time before?
I wonder:
Is my silence a bridge,
or the sea that drowns what might have been?
This is what Healing Thoughts II is made of.
Raw nights turned into words you can hold.
You don’t need to read it cover to cover.
Pick it up.
Open it anywhere.
Let one page steady you when everything tilts.
Healing Thoughts II launches Oct. 1, 2025.
Get the book that came from the hardest season of my life.
Scraps + Band-aids:
🕊 New messages drop most weekdays. Quiet, but not gentle.
🔥 Paid subscribers keep the wounds lit long enough to be named.
📚 When the pain overflows, it becomes a book.
🧢 Healing wears well when stitched into something real.
☕ This newsletter runs on coffee and confession.
🖤 Shadow Thoughts carries the pieces too jagged for here.