Title: Twilight Longings


As morning light creeps through the haze,
And shadows flee in silent ways,
A heart awakens to the day,
And longs for things it cannot say.

The first light of dawn seeped through the heavy curtains, casting a muted glow across the room. Elara lay still, her body stiff beneath the weight of the decision that gnawed at her day after day. She could feel the emptiness beside her, the cold space where Caden had once slept, but she didn’t reach for him anymore. There was no point. He was gone—again.

She had been clinging to the idea of leaving him, of walking away from the wreckage of their marriage, for months now. But every time she thought she might have the strength to go, something held her back.

Her daughters.

They needed her, didn’t they? They needed this—whatever this was. A semblance of family, a home. A sanctuary. Or at least, that’s what she told herself.

But in truth, what she had created was nothing more than a house of cards. Fragile, hollow, waiting to collapse under the weight of the lies they lived.

The mind spins webs of darkened thought,
As wants and needs are slowly wrought,
And desires, twisted and unkind,
Are born within the heart and mind.

The guilt weighed on her like a leaden cloak, pressing down on her with every breath she took. How could she walk away? How could she shatter the illusion of family for her daughters, even if it was just that—an illusion? She had already failed them in so many ways.

What kind of mother would she be if she took away the only home they knew?

Her mind twisted around the thought, warping it until she convinced herself that staying was the only choice. That staying was better for them. That staying would protect them from the truth—the truth that their father no longer loved her, no longer cared. That their family was already broken beyond repair.

But the truth gnawed at her, consuming her from the inside out.

Their bed had become a battlefield.

She stayed for their sake. She stayed because she believed, deep down, that a shattered marriage was better than no marriage at all. That a loveless home was better than tearing their world apart.

But the bed they had once shared had long since become a battleground. Every night, she lay there, alone and cold, waiting for Caden to come home—if he even bothered to come home at all. When he did, it was out of duty, not love. His touch was distant, his eyes indifferent. There was no warmth in his hands, no desire in his body.

Each time they were together, it felt like something inside her died a little more.

She had tried, once, to leave him. The thought had clung to her like a lifeline, a whisper in the back of her mind that she might find happiness somewhere else, somewhere free of this suffocating weight. But her guilt was too strong. The thought of her daughters, of taking away the only family they had ever known, held her back.

She convinced herself that her suffering was necessary. That it was for them.

Oh, how the soul doth ache and yearn,
For things that it cannot discern,
And in the light of dawn’s embrace,
It longs for things it cannot face.

And so, she stayed.

She stayed in the marriage, her heart breaking a little more with each passing day. She stayed because she couldn’t bear the thought of her daughters growing up in a broken home, even though that was exactly what they were already living in.

Her guilt whispered to her in the quiet moments, in the silence of the house when her daughters were asleep. It told her that she was doing the right thing. That she was protecting them. But deep down, she knew that staying was hurting her more than it was helping them.

Her soul ached for something more—something she couldn’t name, something she couldn’t have.

For in the twisted world of want,
There lies a heart that’s dark and gaunt,
And in its depths, a thirst for more,
A hunger that it can’t ignore.

She couldn’t ignore the longing that stirred in her when she thought of Aris. The guilt that came with those thoughts felt like a knife twisting in her chest, but she couldn’t help it. She had met him, and he had shown her kindness. He had looked at her like she was someone worthy of love, someone worth caring for.

But how could she let herself feel anything for him? How could she betray her daughters like that? How could she walk away from the only life they had ever known for the sake of her own happiness?

The thought consumed her, tearing at her from the inside out.

But every time she came close to making a decision, she thought of them. She thought of their faces, their need for stability, for a home. She thought of the way they clung to her when they were scared, the way they looked at her as though she was their whole world.

And so, she stayed.

But in the morning light, we find,
A chance to leave our wants behind,
And in the privilege to be alive,
We learn to think, to love, to thrive.

Her daughters were her anchor. They were the reason she stayed, the reason she endured the cold, loveless nights with Caden. They were the reason she silenced her own needs, her own desires, and convinced herself that staying was better than leaving.

But as the months passed, Elara began to see the cracks in the life she had tried to hold together. She saw the way her daughters looked at her, confused and concerned, as she drifted through the days in a daze. She saw the way they asked about their father, the way they noticed his absence, even if they didn’t fully understand it.

They were not blind to the truth. They were not fooled by the façade she had built.

So, as the sun begins to rise,
And darkness fades from weary eyes,
Let us embrace the privilege to live,
And to the joys of life, let us give.

One night, as she lay in bed, Caden nowhere to be found, Elara stared up at the ceiling, the weight of her decision pressing down on her chest like a stone. She had stayed for so long, telling herself it was for her daughters. But the longer she stayed, the more she realized that staying wasn’t saving them.

It was destroying her.

Her guilt was consuming her, eating away at the woman she used to be. She was losing herself in the name of protecting her daughters, in the name of holding together a family that no longer existed.

She had told herself that staying was for them. But maybe, just maybe, she needed to leave for them, too.