The Light Inside Your Dishonesty

The house is quiet, but the lie you told your child is loud in your head. You said you were at a friend's, when you were actually somewhere you cannot name without shaking.

That gap between your words and your truth feels like a wall now, and in this hour, it feels permanent. But listen — the light does not run from your dishonesty.

It entered the prison of your forgetting and whispered your name before you even wiped the tears away. That same light is not shocked by the mask you wore tonight.

It is already inside you, waiting for you to stop running and simply breathe. You are not defined by the story you told to protect them.

You are defined by the truth that is holding you right now.