#everydaypoems

The bed’s too cold, the sheets don’t hold, The story’s done, the truth is told. I’m left with echoes, sharp and thin, Of a life I can’t get back within.

without you.

And maybe rest is not defeat, Nor stepping off the endless beat, But learning gently, day by day, That living isn’t just the pay.

Before it slips through the cracks?

If fools write mindless poems like this Where are the poems that are made in bliss? Are those poems lost at sea? Or is it kept and torn freely? From a poet that's scorned, And inevitably mourned. Did he or she lose their mind? If then, what did they eventually find? Have they found comfort or thoughts that triggers? Or sadness that truly and endlessly lingers? Through tears and fears and battles won, I hope they find a solid one A solid reason to live and heave– And find in their written words, a reprieve. Each and every word is the key, To poems that are made by fools like me.

Tears stain the keys of my laptop, My body reacts to every disrespect that I swallowed whole Deactivating... Ruminating... No more stooping low, Low enough to bend and break my bones, Pleasing wolves cloaked in sapphire. My heart closes up, With each clickity clack, I feel a shiver run down my spine A voice whispers, "No more feeding on crumbs mistaken for feasts." "You've been kind enough." "Patient enough." "Soft enough..." "Foolish enough..." "...To bleed for hands that never held themselves accountable..." "You've translated your love  too many times in languages that you don't even speak..." "They don't get it, so stop." So I preserved myself inside an unbreakable glass jar, Where no one can use me or wring me dry. If anyone opens the lid, I'll let God close it again. Not because I've become distrustful, But I learned the hard way—the hardest, To ever let someone in... only to watch me fall apart. Love is beautiful, yes, But not to the point, Where I have to ruin myself for others' entertainment. I've been there, And I'm never going back. I see myself changing. Keeping the lid of this jar tight, And not hoping for a savior, As it turns out I always save myself, Even when I'm with self-proclaimed saviors.

Today, the 29th of December, 2025. You were supposed to be here with me and my family. Giving yourself a chance to get to know them. To know the people who made me who I am. But you made your choice in every “let’s see” whenever I invited you to a gathering. Your schedule was always more important than mine. You only saw me when it was convenient for you. Now I’m gone. And I know you’ll feel the absence of my warmth. You’ll feel the shift, that I’m no longer the pursuer. Since you’re very spiritual, as you say, you’ll feel it. And that shift will create a hole in your life that nothing can fill. No bike rides. No amount of positivity. Nada. You’ll start asking questions, the same ones that lived in my mind when I overthought. Was I too distant? Was I too much? And when you finally see me with someone else, someone who truly treats me right, gives me princess treatment, and reassures me that I’m the only one... you’ll break down and wish that it was still you.

December 28, 2025 When you said thank you Thank you for the good memories And the bad experiences I was shattered That was the moment I realized That we were over I wanted you to chase after me I wanted you to care I wanted you to tell me That you would never give up on me Because although our values don’t align Although many would walk away I have the heart To fight for you I just want to know That someone will fight for me That someone has the guts This time to say, “I choose you, despite the circumstances, Despite your flaws, In spite of your unpredictability.” But that only happens in movies, Don’t they? I was always meant not to be chosen Not to be fought for I just want one person to tell me, “You’re worth all the hurt, All the pain, Because I love you.” I only want someone who will love me Loudly, Publicly, And without shame. I long for someone To be transparent, To take me seriously, And irrevocably.