Invinoveritas - Hello Poetry

Gradually I am surrounded, cornered and helpless. Memories of you chase me down but it is only myself hunting myself. You shine like the sheen of a knife, slick with the blood of my back. And still I crave your eyes my own reflection, longing for me to turn. I was afraid, love, but I had to. I think back to when we were one: me cradling a raven in my ribcage, its wings black with hunger, its beak already tearing. Without you, I am hollow; with you, I am full but only with poison, bubbling to the brim. So I turned the switch, and drowned your voice in silence. I will not walk into your dagger again. Your memories rain down bullets I dodge, arrows loosed from my own hands. Do you remember the running, circles upon circles, careless, unchained, free? Now it is only me, humming an old sad song, alone with the echo. Still, the raven stirs. Its wings scrape bone, its shadow darkens my lungs. It waits for me to falter, to turn, to bleed again. But I will not feed it. Not this time. The knife will rust, the raven will starve, and I will walk out of the circle alive.

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Aug 18, 2025

Aug 18, 2025 at 4:46 PM UTC

Invinoveritas

escaping us

Gradually I am surrounded, cornered and helpless. Memories of you chase me down but it is only myself hunting myself. You shine like the sheen of a knife, slick with the blood of my back. And still I crave your eyes my own reflection, longing for me to turn. I was afraid, love, but I had to. I think back to when we were one: me cradling a raven in my ribcage, its wings black with hunger, its beak already tearing. Without you, I am hollow; with you, I am full but only with poison, bubbling to the brim. So I turned the switch, and drowned your voice in silence. I will not walk into your dagger again. Your memories rain down bullets I dodge, arrows loosed from my own hands. Do you remember the running, circles upon circles, careless, unchained, free? Now it is only me, humming an old sad song, alone with the echo. Still, the raven stirs. Its wings scrape bone, its shadow darkens my lungs. It waits for me to falter, to turn, to bleed again. But I will not feed it. Not this time. The knife will rust, the raven will starve, and I will walk out of the circle alive.

43

If I had a wish of where to be right now, it would be a place I know so well— from all the nights I’ve laid awake in bed. I have been there more often than I’ve ever really been here. Old wooden doors, heavy with secrets. A river rushes past like it’s trying to forget. I am standing outside a cottage in a place more rural than any post-apocalyptic silence. Leaves fall, decay, and feed the soil beneath them. What if I was a leaf never meant to see the light? A leaf designed to fall—for someone else’s spring. Was I always meant to be expendable? I tear my eyes from the trees and run into the woods because my mind refuses to stay still. No matter how far I go, it finds a way back to me— a boomerang to the skull, and always between the eyes. The sheep and chickens are my sanctuary. I’ve named them all. They are my equals. We care for each other in this strange, gentle marriage. They listen to my stories about you. I read them things I’d never show a soul— bare and trembling, as if I stood in the middle of a city, naked, just hoping you’d see me. and I am glad they do not judge.

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Jul 30, 2025

Jul 30, 2025 at 3:28 PM UTC

Invinoveritas

Songs of the south devon coast

If I had a wish of where to be right now, it would be a place I know so well— from all the nights I’ve laid awake in bed. I have been there more often than I’ve ever really been here. Old wooden doors, heavy with secrets. A river rushes past like it’s trying to forget. I am standing outside a cottage in a place more rural than any post-apocalyptic silence. Leaves fall, decay, and feed the soil beneath them. What if I was a leaf never meant to see the light? A leaf designed to fall—for someone else’s spring. Was I always meant to be expendable? I tear my eyes from the trees and run into the woods because my mind refuses to stay still. No matter how far I go, it finds a way back to me— a boomerang to the skull, and always between the eyes. The sheep and chickens are my sanctuary. I’ve named them all. They are my equals. We care for each other in this strange, gentle marriage. They listen to my stories about you. I read them things I’d never show a soul— bare and trembling, as if I stood in the middle of a city, naked, just hoping you’d see me. and I am glad they do not judge.

30

Are you where you're meant to be? Every choice you've made has built you. Did the wrong turns pull you from the life that was meant to be yours? I have wronged — and so have you. We’ve strayed so far, we’ve forgotten the path altogether. And yet — I’m so glad to be lost in this world if I’m lost with you. We sit in meadows that rise above our knees, and you laugh at me for tucking my trousers into my socks. “I’m scared of ticks,” I remind you. You roll your eyes — but your smile is the softest thing I know. I could sit here forever, in this tall, wild field, beneath a sky bluer than I ever imagined. But even now, in all this gentle quiet, something heavy sits behind my ribs. It doesn’t speak — it doesn’t need to. It just is, and it always has been. I watch your face tilt toward the sun, like a flower that trusts spring to come. And I wonder — how do you do it? How do you believe in warmth when winter still lives in your chest? You ask me if I’m okay, and I say yes, because it would break the moment if I didn’t. Because you look so happy. Because this field is beautiful, and the sky is trying so hard to love me back. And maybe that’s enough for now. To sit beside you, ticking moments into the earth like seeds that might one day grow into something lighter than this. The sun slips lower, and everything turns to honey. You lean back on your elbows, laugh lines deepening as you squint toward the horizon. I memorize them like scripture. I don’t know how long I’ll feel like this — like I’m walking through syrup, like I’ve misplaced the parts of myself that used to shine. But when you brush your hand against mine, even accidentally, I feel the tiniest pull back to the surface. I want to believe that this is real. That something so soft can last in a world that feels so sharp. That you won’t tire of waiting for the better version of me I keep promising it's just around the bend. I want to stay. Not just here, in this meadow — but here, with you, in whatever this is we are quietly building between silences and eye rolls and tucked-in socks. If I lose myself again — if the dark comes fast — please, just remind me of today. Remind me that once, in a field of tall grass, I felt the light, and I welcomed it in.

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Jul 19, 2025

Jul 19, 2025 at 5:50 PM UTC

Invinoveritas

Summertime

Are you where you're meant to be? Every choice you've made has built you. Did the wrong turns pull you from the life that was meant to be yours? I have wronged — and so have you. We’ve strayed so far, we’ve forgotten the path altogether. And yet — I’m so glad to be lost in this world if I’m lost with you. We sit in meadows that rise above our knees, and you laugh at me for tucking my trousers into my socks. “I’m scared of ticks,” I remind you. You roll your eyes — but your smile is the softest thing I know. I could sit here forever, in this tall, wild field, beneath a sky bluer than I ever imagined. But even now, in all this gentle quiet, something heavy sits behind my ribs. It doesn’t speak — it doesn’t need to. It just is, and it always has been. I watch your face tilt toward the sun, like a flower that trusts spring to come. And I wonder — how do you do it? How do you believe in warmth when winter still lives in your chest? You ask me if I’m okay, and I say yes, because it would break the moment if I didn’t. Because you look so happy. Because this field is beautiful, and the sky is trying so hard to love me back. And maybe that’s enough for now. To sit beside you, ticking moments into the earth like seeds that might one day grow into something lighter than this. The sun slips lower, and everything turns to honey. You lean back on your elbows, laugh lines deepening as you squint toward the horizon. I memorize them like scripture. I don’t know how long I’ll feel like this — like I’m walking through syrup, like I’ve misplaced the parts of myself that used to shine. But when you brush your hand against mine, even accidentally, I feel the tiniest pull back to the surface. I want to believe that this is real. That something so soft can last in a world that feels so sharp. That you won’t tire of waiting for the better version of me I keep promising it's just around the bend. I want to stay. Not just here, in this meadow — but here, with you, in whatever this is we are quietly building between silences and eye rolls and tucked-in socks. If I lose myself again — if the dark comes fast — please, just remind me of today. Remind me that once, in a field of tall grass, I felt the light, and I welcomed it in.

72

Freezing in your warm grip. I don’t want to blame you — you were never at fault. You grew tired of sneaking around my shards, too afraid of cutting me to be yourself. I am fragile, hurt, but I never meant to turn you into that — into something heavy with worry, something stitched from empathy. I never wanted your voice to be a balm for my chaos. You should have been the hammer, breaking the glass around me so I could finally breathe. Help rebuild me — if it’s not too late. I know I pushed you away. And the echo of that loss has made me bitter, too bitter to let you return. This eternal, internal battle will be the end of the person you once loved. The loss of you will leave me changed — not ruined, but never the same. Shadows of the words I said cast darkness onto your sunlight. I blocked the light from reaching you. I stopped you from growing — from blooming into something beautiful. The hot sand burned my feet as we walked side by side, hand in hand. But love, spelled backwards, is evol. And as we rewind, all I see is how I hurt you.

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Jul 19, 2025

Jul 19, 2025 at 5:46 PM UTC

Invinoveritas

Evol

Freezing in your warm grip. I don’t want to blame you — you were never at fault. You grew tired of sneaking around my shards, too afraid of cutting me to be yourself. I am fragile, hurt, but I never meant to turn you into that — into something heavy with worry, something stitched from empathy. I never wanted your voice to be a balm for my chaos. You should have been the hammer, breaking the glass around me so I could finally breathe. Help rebuild me — if it’s not too late. I know I pushed you away. And the echo of that loss has made me bitter, too bitter to let you return. This eternal, internal battle will be the end of the person you once loved. The loss of you will leave me changed — not ruined, but never the same. Shadows of the words I said cast darkness onto your sunlight. I blocked the light from reaching you. I stopped you from growing — from blooming into something beautiful. The hot sand burned my feet as we walked side by side, hand in hand. But love, spelled backwards, is evol. And as we rewind, all I see is how I hurt you.

46

Come back to me, my love. The nights collapse without you. Silence wraps around me like frost and the stars — they whisper your name so softly it bruises. You haunt the darkness of my chest, echo in the hollows where your hands once rested. Each breeze tastes like you, feels like the breath you never took when you left. I reach for you in dreams only to wake with fists full of absence. I replay every moment — not to remember you, but to pretend you're still here with me. Come back to me, my love. Time has not healed me; it has hollowed me out to leave a space only for you. What they call healing is just learning how to walk without my heart. I carry your ghost like an Armor, like a wound that glows. I should hate you for leaving but all I can do is beg the air to bring you back. Scars fade — but you don’t. You burn steady in my blood, a name I cannot forget even when I scream it into nothing. I want to forget you — and I don’t. I want to erase you — and hold you tighter. If you stood beside me now, I would be whole. I would finally be real. I am more myself when I am with you. And without you, I am no one at all.

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Jul 19, 2025

Jul 19, 2025 at 5:43 PM UTC

Invinoveritas

Come Back to Me, My Love

Come back to me, my love. The nights collapse without you. Silence wraps around me like frost and the stars — they whisper your name so softly it bruises. You haunt the darkness of my chest, echo in the hollows where your hands once rested. Each breeze tastes like you, feels like the breath you never took when you left. I reach for you in dreams only to wake with fists full of absence. I replay every moment — not to remember you, but to pretend you're still here with me. Come back to me, my love. Time has not healed me; it has hollowed me out to leave a space only for you. What they call healing is just learning how to walk without my heart. I carry your ghost like an Armor, like a wound that glows. I should hate you for leaving but all I can do is beg the air to bring you back. Scars fade — but you don’t. You burn steady in my blood, a name I cannot forget even when I scream it into nothing. I want to forget you — and I don’t. I want to erase you — and hold you tighter. If you stood beside me now, I would be whole. I would finally be real. I am more myself when I am with you. And without you, I am no one at all.

44

Clear the house and find old poems — the ones never meant to be read, never meant to be heard. But you tore through them like you tore through my soul. I cannot do it. I cannot bear the thought of you reading my mind, of you reading my soul. Let me erase your memory so we can live on. The flowers have finished drying. Time is ticking. And we can’t rewind. It is out of my control. You stare at me with silent eyes — the kind that stay still when I reach. Let me make contact, just once. I didn’t have much regard for the little things until you left — the smell of your hair on the pillow next to mine, the way your fingers curled in sleep, or how you always left the light on, just in case. I walk through rooms where your absence hums louder than my footsteps. I try to trace the memory of your voice against the silence. And still — I would give anything to hear you say my name again, not with anger, not with regret, but softly, as if you had never left. For you have haunted me in my dreams and will forever be a part I cannot retrieve. I would give anything to be the version of myself you once reached for in the dark.

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Jul 5, 2025

Jul 5, 2025 at 8:01 AM UTC

Invinoveritas

Out of My Control

Clear the house and find old poems — the ones never meant to be read, never meant to be heard. But you tore through them like you tore through my soul. I cannot do it. I cannot bear the thought of you reading my mind, of you reading my soul. Let me erase your memory so we can live on. The flowers have finished drying. Time is ticking. And we can’t rewind. It is out of my control. You stare at me with silent eyes — the kind that stay still when I reach. Let me make contact, just once. I didn’t have much regard for the little things until you left — the smell of your hair on the pillow next to mine, the way your fingers curled in sleep, or how you always left the light on, just in case. I walk through rooms where your absence hums louder than my footsteps. I try to trace the memory of your voice against the silence. And still — I would give anything to hear you say my name again, not with anger, not with regret, but softly, as if you had never left. For you have haunted me in my dreams and will forever be a part I cannot retrieve. I would give anything to be the version of myself you once reached for in the dark.

46

For what it’s worth, those words tremble from my lips more often than not — unheard, unacknowledged, as though I’m only ever half-there, a shadow at the edge of your focus. For what it’s worth, you once had a place in the quiet corners of my heart — not a home, but a storm shelter cracked at the seams. A battleground of quiet wars where even silence left bruises. I rewrite the truth, try to shape it into something soft, something you might believe. But it slips through. Nothing I do seems to hold. Nothing feels certain. I change direction like a car caught in a roundabout — circling, circling, too afraid to choose a way out. Every road leads somewhere, and somewhere might hurt. So I don’t move. And while I stall, the engine inside me starts to burn. The pressure builds. The heat rises. But still — I wait. Because moving means deciding, and deciding means risking being wrong. Help me. Say something I understand. Your silence is a language I never learned to speak. For what it’s worth — I want to understand. But I’m burning. Slowly, completely — as the engine heats up and demands a choice. Any exit might save me, might stop the flames. But I keep circling. Until the engine explodes — and pieces of me fly in every direction, even the ones I tried hardest to avoid. Now, for what it’s worth, all that’s left is wreckage made from hesitation, scattered through the silence we never learned to break.

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Jul 5, 2025

Jul 5, 2025 at 8:00 AM UTC

Invinoveritas

For What It’s Worth

For what it’s worth, those words tremble from my lips more often than not — unheard, unacknowledged, as though I’m only ever half-there, a shadow at the edge of your focus. For what it’s worth, you once had a place in the quiet corners of my heart — not a home, but a storm shelter cracked at the seams. A battleground of quiet wars where even silence left bruises. I rewrite the truth, try to shape it into something soft, something you might believe. But it slips through. Nothing I do seems to hold. Nothing feels certain. I change direction like a car caught in a roundabout — circling, circling, too afraid to choose a way out. Every road leads somewhere, and somewhere might hurt. So I don’t move. And while I stall, the engine inside me starts to burn. The pressure builds. The heat rises. But still — I wait. Because moving means deciding, and deciding means risking being wrong. Help me. Say something I understand. Your silence is a language I never learned to speak. For what it’s worth — I want to understand. But I’m burning. Slowly, completely — as the engine heats up and demands a choice. Any exit might save me, might stop the flames. But I keep circling. Until the engine explodes — and pieces of me fly in every direction, even the ones I tried hardest to avoid. Now, for what it’s worth, all that’s left is wreckage made from hesitation, scattered through the silence we never learned to break.

56

Nenne mich nicht bei meinem Namen, nenne mich so, wie du mich erinnerst – als Wärme zwischen kalten Tagen, als Stimme, bevor ich verstummte. Let me make it up to you. I have disappointed you, humiliated and hurt you, my apologies taste like silence now. Ich sehe dich in meinem Spiegel, doch mein Blick weicht aus. Akzeptanz rinnt langsam, wie Sand durch zitternde Finger. I am you, I am me, split in the middle, half apology, half hope. And I don’t know which half is mine. Hilf mir, mich wieder zu lieben, wenn auch nur ein wenig – wenn auch nur für einen Moment, in dem dein Blick mich wieder trägt. Let me rebuild the bridge I burned, step by step, breath by breath. I’m tired of being a stranger in my own chest. Ich schreibe mich neu mit tobender Hand. Kein Held, kein Retter, nur jemand, der wieder anfangen will.

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Jun 10, 2025

Jun 10, 2025 at 4:15 PM UTC

Invinoveritas

Fiona

Nenne mich nicht bei meinem Namen, nenne mich so, wie du mich erinnerst – als Wärme zwischen kalten Tagen, als Stimme, bevor ich verstummte. Let me make it up to you. I have disappointed you, humiliated and hurt you, my apologies taste like silence now. Ich sehe dich in meinem Spiegel, doch mein Blick weicht aus. Akzeptanz rinnt langsam, wie Sand durch zitternde Finger. I am you, I am me, split in the middle, half apology, half hope. And I don’t know which half is mine. Hilf mir, mich wieder zu lieben, wenn auch nur ein wenig – wenn auch nur für einen Moment, in dem dein Blick mich wieder trägt. Let me rebuild the bridge I burned, step by step, breath by breath. I’m tired of being a stranger in my own chest. Ich schreibe mich neu mit tobender Hand. Kein Held, kein Retter, nur jemand, der wieder anfangen will.

28

Decisions over discussions, Help me find solace in my ruthless mind. Glasses blur. Windows reflect. Order has been lost. Hell has frozen over. Shadows are lit. Nothing is right— My thoughts race backwards. I just want a place with you, In the eternal sunshine of your heart. You have cool hands. Don’t make me change. I don’t want to. Coastlines have cliffs and beaches— But I am the wave, Crashing again and again, Never reaching. Hold out your hand for me. Let me grip it. Trust me not to pull you down. But you shake your head As I drown, The weight in my heart Defies my kicking limbs. Fireflies light up my face in the wild woods. Streams run down my cheeks. Lungs tear in half— I am forced to stop. Forced to stop running: From you. From me. From my life. From my mind. Practice over skill, But I am too tired to care. Too tired to try. Frozen at the edge of the bed. Sweat saturates the sheets. Vivid dreams Rip me back to you. I just want a place with you.

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May 15, 2025

May 15, 2025 at 7:04 AM UTC

Invinoveritas

A place with you

Decisions over discussions, Help me find solace in my ruthless mind. Glasses blur. Windows reflect. Order has been lost. Hell has frozen over. Shadows are lit. Nothing is right— My thoughts race backwards. I just want a place with you, In the eternal sunshine of your heart. You have cool hands. Don’t make me change. I don’t want to. Coastlines have cliffs and beaches— But I am the wave, Crashing again and again, Never reaching. Hold out your hand for me. Let me grip it. Trust me not to pull you down. But you shake your head As I drown, The weight in my heart Defies my kicking limbs. Fireflies light up my face in the wild woods. Streams run down my cheeks. Lungs tear in half— I am forced to stop. Forced to stop running: From you. From me. From my life. From my mind. Practice over skill, But I am too tired to care. Too tired to try. Frozen at the edge of the bed. Sweat saturates the sheets. Vivid dreams Rip me back to you. I just want a place with you.

40

Streaks of sunlight make your eyes ever so blue, Like oceans lit by morning’s grace. I wish I had eyes like that— Eyes that can capture, And never let them drift laway. They hold me still, Right where you want me. I’m falling— Uncertain, unconscious, No map, no anchor, No promise that the chute will open. But still, I fall. I fall for you. And somehow, that fall feels like flying. Help me find solace in the storm. Be the calm when the thunder grows close. Shelter me when the rain won’t stop— When skies crack open and shadows swell. Just stare out with me into the grey, And hold me like you'll never let me go. If I break, let it be in your arms. If I fade, let me fade beside you. And if I soar— Let it be because you believed I could.

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Apr 30, 2025

Apr 30, 2025 at 3:57 PM UTC

Invinoveritas

Eyes like yours

Streaks of sunlight make your eyes ever so blue, Like oceans lit by morning’s grace. I wish I had eyes like that— Eyes that can capture, And never let them drift laway. They hold me still, Right where you want me. I’m falling— Uncertain, unconscious, No map, no anchor, No promise that the chute will open. But still, I fall. I fall for you. And somehow, that fall feels like flying. Help me find solace in the storm. Be the calm when the thunder grows close. Shelter me when the rain won’t stop— When skies crack open and shadows swell. Just stare out with me into the grey, And hold me like you'll never let me go. If I break, let it be in your arms. If I fade, let me fade beside you. And if I soar— Let it be because you believed I could.

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