Relatable Joe

each word you let fall from your chest is a seed

you do not see it right away but the soil inside you is listening

it softens when you are kind it hardens when you are cruel

you think you are only talking but your body is taking notes

you move through this loud cruel world soft-spoken

but unbreakable in every trembling step

each scar on your skin

each crack in your voice

is a chapter where you chose kindness instead of collapse

proof that you can bleed and still bloom

you are not damaged goods you are evidence that light can stay gentle and still survive the storm

your quiet courage a lantern in the undergrowth guiding someone lost in the trees back to themselves because you never stopped being you

you are the small thing left by the door not a miracle not a cure just a folded kindness waiting for the worst part of the day

you are the thing they grab when the sky finally breaks

you are proof that even on the worst day a kindness can be waiting by the door and that is enough for now

you keep waiting for someone to read your mind to translate your silence into sonnets

but love was never another word to memorize

it is the text that says “did you get home safe” before you think to worry

it is the way they remember the story you abandoned halfway through three weeks ago and ask you how it ends

it is them closing their laptop when you say “i’m fine” and they hear that you are not

each morning you open your eyes and there is a small garden inside you never the same as yesterday some days it is all thorns and dry soil some days clover lies down like a soft apology

you did not choose the seeds they were slipped into your pockets by parents. lovers. strangers. by a world that never checked if you had room for more

but you choose what you water what you pull out with shaking hands you choose which feeling grows tall enough to throw its shade across your day

one day your family house will fall quiet

you will watch them leaving in slow motion

mother packing her years into tired suitcases

getting weaker with each folded memory, each buried story

father tucking his worries into old shirts

doors closing like full stops on sentences you were still learning how to read

you will hear the echo arrive before the silence

cups for four clinking for one in the sink

family photos still hanging on empty walls like soft ghosts

you will hold your own hand like a small promise

learn that love is a room you build inside your chest

so when the rain speaks sharply to the windows

you remember even parents are only gifts you unwrap by letting them go

you stay quiet

and they treat your silence

like an empty room

like you have no storm

no sword

no sentence

waiting, burning

on the back of your tongue

but you are a whole language

slowly learning to speak softly

to yourself first

you do not owe your pain

to their hungry questions

you only owe your truth

to the small hands of your own healing

you have spent years

handing house keys

to people who never planned

to live in you

only visit

only rearrange your furniture

and leave the lights on

when they walked out

now you learn

to give your doors

to the warm ones

the soft-sun someones

who bring blankets

not bruises

who glow beside you in the storm

until you remember

you were the fire all along

this one’s for you

who fought whole wars in silence

biting back storms / breathing through scars

no medals / no audience / just you

and the dark that kept trying

to rename you “broken”

i see the way you keep showing up

soft palms / tired eyes / steady heart

how you carry your past like a lantern

not a prison

you have come so far

let this be the moment

you call it what it is —

survival / courage / proof you were always enough

you are the quiet glow no one claps for yet tired hearts find home when they pass you

you do not beg to be noticed god tucked a soft prayer inside your chest and your silence speaks what words keep ruining

you are where beauty peace and honesty meet stop shrinking your sunrise to make others comfortable with the dark

you always ask what if it breaks but never what if it blooms

you owe yourself the chance to be surprised by your own joy

step toward it unafraid your doubt is loud but your future is louder

you were always soft they just held your light too rough you were blamed for burns

you outgrew their cage storm-heart wrapped in tender skin nothing there was wrong

call your body home you are easy work for love that won’t fear your fire

you walked off and still my heart trails your quiet steps hauling this mountain

you left my eyes bare but your face lives in my chest loud as yesterday

you migrated far yet your beauty camps in me refusing to move

you wait for someday, you chase a softer season, and miss this warm breath.

you already shine, you light the cracks of old wounds, and call them worthy.

you choose now, not when, you love through your trembling fear, and begin again.

you feel the rain, not just the cold, wet weather, you whisper, i’m here.

you watch your thoughts, like drops across a window, you choose not to run.

you let it fall, on all your old, sore places, you call that, healing.

you count the soft maybes, like little broken shells, you hold your own hands.

you open your chest, quiet tears fall in secret, you still say you’re fine.

you learn this at last, you cannot bargain to stay, you just choose yourself.