I sit by the shore with sand in my hands,
thinking of him, then thinking of her.
His smile is kind, his words are sweet,
but never makes the water stir.
She walks in like a storm I want,
with eyes that pull like undertow.
I'd drown so gladly in her gaze
and come up breathless just to know.
Boys are boats - safe, expected and still.
But girls? They're waves that don't forgive.
And I have feared, with aching truth,
that this is how I will always live.
Loving the ocean more than the shore-and longing for what wrecks me more.
Jun 8, 2025
Jun 8, 2025 at 11:10 AM UTC
Is it okay that I scan the room
like love might wear your face tonight?
To hope you're tucked in shadows deep,
or laughing under the neon light?
Why do you live inside my mind
when I'm surrounded, not alone?
the voices blur, but are never yours
because I carry it like it's my own.
I touch the sleeve of someone close,
pretend it's you, then look away.
A ghost I stitched from memory
still walks beside me every day.
Maybe I dream too loud, too much,
but I still check each passing sound,
just incase some small part of you
is hiding somewhere in the crowd.
-Somewhere in the crowd
Jun 1, 2025
Jun 1, 2025 at 8:27 AM UTC
I saw a fox just past the gate,
her eyes like dust, her breath like steam.
She didn't run, just watched me there,
half in the world, half in a dream.
Her coat was stitched with falling leaves,
the kind that never touch the ground.
I took a step, she took a breath,
then vanished without making a sound.
They say the wild won't wait for you,
it teaches fast, and leaves you slow.
But still I stand where foxes go-
too scared to chase,
too old not to.
May 31, 2025
May 31, 2025 at 4:52 PM UTC
I want what's best for you, I swear,
A life that feels both kind and true,
Where daylight breaks through every care,
And skies are never dull or blue.
But sometimes dreams get tangled up,
Like words that don't come out just right-
There's a poem stuck inside my throat,
Unsaid beneath the fading light.
I write of love that hides and bends,
Of wanting someone who's not "her",
In quiet rooms where judgment waits,
And whispered fears begin to stir.
Maybe someday I'll speak it loud,
The truth I clutch inside my chest.
Until then, I will hope for you,
And wish for me a little rest.
-A quiet wish.
May 30, 2025
May 30, 2025 at 10:32 AM UTC