The elevator mirror catches my face in pieces
Fluorescent lines across my eyes
I tuck a loose thought back into my mouth
Before it turns into a question A folding
note lives in the pocket of my coat
Words I wrote would never send The
city hums through the concrete floor
Like it knows exactly how fast my hands are shaking
I keep rehearsing softer exits But
the truth keeps clearing its throat
Brave is not the sound of my voice getting
louder Just a pause before I finally speak
Staying in the room where my pulse tries
to run Letting the silence look dead in me
I don't break the moment open I hold it long enough to let it hold me
Neon spills across a wet crosswalk My shadow doubles then disappears
I watch a stranger press their forehead
to glass On a bus that won't stop here
I used to call distance,
being careful Call unfinished goodbyes time
Tonight I hear how thin those words
were How gently fears hide inside them
There's a version of me at every red
light Deciding who gets who across
But brave is not the promise that nothing
will hurt It's walking straight into a mind
It's letting my breath give me away Not editing the way I feel inside
I don't rush the
ending Stay where the ground still moves under my feet
I thought courage looked like armor
Tight control, a perfect line
But it feels more like a soft undoing Like
setting something down that was never mine
No audience,
no clean release Just me and the flicker of a streetlight glow
Trembling
doesn't mean no
Brave is not the way I survive the fall It's
how I finally stop pretending I didn't jump
Choosing the truth over a quiet life Even when my voice comes undone
I don't make it heroic I make it honest and step forward anyway
I leave the door half open
Let the night
hear me breathe
And take one small step
Without asking,
who's watching?