TurtleScratch Woodworking

Nope. I can't draw worth s**t.

Made a quick self portrait upon request #art #selfportrait

“Your Chair Is Empty”

You sit across from me,
smiling like you’ve cracked the code on hurt,
scribbling in your leather-bound gospel
about “accountability,”
about “narratives we tell ourselves.”

But in the mirror of your own nights,
you’re the ghost in someone else’s story—
the shadow that turns love into litigation,
turns warm bodies into case studies,
turns former partners into footnotes
marked antagonist.

You teach breathing exercises
to lungs you’ve left gasping,
prescribe closure
from a wound you never stitched.
You tell me monsters are made, not born—
then sculpt them from the people
who once traced your skin like scripture.

I wonder,
do you light the candle before you burn the bridge,
or do you call it “boundaries”
when you salt the soil behind you?

Your couch might cradle the broken,
but your own hands
still drop lovers like bad habits,
still twist their goodbye
into proof of your victimhood.

And maybe that’s the part you can’t see—
your reflection wearing
the same sharp edges
you warn me to avoid.

So tell me again
how healing works,
and I’ll tell you how hypocrisy tastes—
like honey laced with iron,
sweet on the way down,
but it cuts when it lands.