She bleeds words—
the kind you don’t say out loud,
the ones that sit in your chest
like smoke in a locked room,
waiting for a way out
that doesn’t set the whole place on fire.
She carries them quiet,
like a story no one stuck around to finish.
Heavy words.
Unsaid truths.
Pages folded in pain
because speaking them felt like betrayal
and silence felt like survival.
So she bleeds through the pen.
Not once. Not twice.
But again and again—
like healing’s stuck in rerun
and she’s the only one still watching.
Her heart?
It breaks in lowercase now.
Soft. Repetitive.
But every crack still echoes
through the lines she writes.
The stains show—
deep, dark, deliberate.
But the past weighs too damn much
to just turn the page.
So she scribbles.
Letting the ink carry what her mouth can’t.
Writing it down
so it stops living in her.
She wishes for a plot twist—
not a prince,
not a savior,
but peace.
A day where the stains
look more like survival
and less like a scar she still flinches at.
No hero here.
Just the villain she wrote in italics.
The one she bled for
while he skimmed the story
and claimed he didn’t get it.
He read the words.
He just couldn’t feel the weight.
Too shallow to swim in her depth.
Too prideful to admit
he was the reason she drowned on the page.
She bleeds words.
From the core, from the cracks,
from the places he never reached
because he never really tried.
She offered him poetry.
He treated it like noise.
~Kae Jaye~
Kae Jaye The Writer 