Sofiaaa - Hello Poetry

And the funny thing is, you were the one who made me laugh the most. Now, all the memories make me smile, but nothing hurts me more than knowing I won’t hear those funny jokes anymore, or the sound of your laughter cascading off the walls of our little apartment. Life can be cruel. But the funniest thing is, I still wait to hear your laugh Knowing it will never echo again.

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Mar 28

Mar 28, 2026 at 9:05 PM UTC

Echo

And the funny thing is, you were the one who made me laugh the most. Now, all the memories make me smile, but nothing hurts me more than knowing I won’t hear those funny jokes anymore, or the sound of your laughter cascading off the walls of our little apartment. Life can be cruel. But the funniest thing is, I still wait to hear your laugh Knowing it will never echo again.

12

He is myself. I see him in me. Two mirrors facing each other. Is this why we don’t see eye to eye? He has brown eyes. I see my reflection in them. Pools of sepia depths that I always drown in. He makes me lose control. Just drives recklessly across my heart. I take control again and turn the other way. He never calls. Or says hello. He just lingers around.. And… He knows I’ll keep waiting.

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Mar 26

Mar 26, 2026 at 2:22 AM UTC

HE

He is myself. I see him in me. Two mirrors facing each other. Is this why we don’t see eye to eye? He has brown eyes. I see my reflection in them. Pools of sepia depths that I always drown in. He makes me lose control. Just drives recklessly across my heart. I take control again and turn the other way. He never calls. Or says hello. He just lingers around.. And… He knows I’ll keep waiting.

18

When I got the news about you, I couldn’t believe it. All the memories flashed on through, still I couldn’t see it. I kept calling your phone, it kept ringing. No answer at all, I’m crying looking at the ceiling. I knew things were going to suddenly change, but I wasn’t expecting this immense pain. I called your phone again, and all it did was ring and ring. All I wanted was to hear your voice, make sure you were still here by choice. Never got to grieve your memory, I fall asleep only to lie awake in misery. Losing a sibling isn’t for the weak. Losing my brother made me unable to speak. I wish I had one last day with you, one last laugh like we used to do. I’d tell you everything I never said, all the words stuck in my head.

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Mar 24

Mar 24, 2026 at 7:35 PM UTC

No Answer

When I got the news about you, I couldn’t believe it. All the memories flashed on through, still I couldn’t see it. I kept calling your phone, it kept ringing. No answer at all, I’m crying looking at the ceiling. I knew things were going to suddenly change, but I wasn’t expecting this immense pain. I called your phone again, and all it did was ring and ring. All I wanted was to hear your voice, make sure you were still here by choice. Never got to grieve your memory, I fall asleep only to lie awake in misery. Losing a sibling isn’t for the weak. Losing my brother made me unable to speak. I wish I had one last day with you, one last laugh like we used to do. I’d tell you everything I never said, all the words stuck in my head.

20

You ever have one of those days where you’re sitting completely in silence, in the real world but somehow deeper in your own? Surrounded by people busy minding their own affairs. Everyday people. Strangers. Humans making their way to unknown places, racing toward their next destination. And you’re… just there. Invisible to some, unimportant to others, just another face in the crowd, unrecognizable, irrelevant. But inside your head, the thoughts are completely out of control. Loud. Erratic. Messy. Scribbled across your brain. So loud and overpowering they make you afraid to be seen or noticed. What would you call that? Anxiety? BPD? Manic? Is it grief? Is it pain? Could it be PTSD? Who knows. But I do know here they come. They are not supposed to be this loud. But… if you could hear the inside of my mind, you would understand why I sometimes disappear while sitting right in front of you.

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Mar 24

Mar 24, 2026 at 6:57 PM UTC

Loud Silence

You ever have one of those days where you’re sitting completely in silence, in the real world but somehow deeper in your own? Surrounded by people busy minding their own affairs. Everyday people. Strangers. Humans making their way to unknown places, racing toward their next destination. And you’re… just there. Invisible to some, unimportant to others, just another face in the crowd, unrecognizable, irrelevant. But inside your head, the thoughts are completely out of control. Loud. Erratic. Messy. Scribbled across your brain. So loud and overpowering they make you afraid to be seen or noticed. What would you call that? Anxiety? BPD? Manic? Is it grief? Is it pain? Could it be PTSD? Who knows. But I do know here they come. They are not supposed to be this loud. But… if you could hear the inside of my mind, you would understand why I sometimes disappear while sitting right in front of you.

43

I never write about you. Maybe I should start. But the pages wouldn’t be big enough to hold all the important and nonchalant things that made you who you were. All the tiny, descriptive details. There will never be anybody like you. No one could love themselves that much. And still, sometimes, I catch myself doing things just the way you used to — the little things no one ever knew about you. But me. Because I saw every color and every bruise you suffered through. I weathered every hard day beside you. I listened to your mouth swear the same words over and over again. I watched you cry yourself to sleep. Every single night. I searched for the source of your hidden pain — the unbearable grief, the vast emptiness, the sharp agony, the unfortunate sorrow, the heavy burdens. You really were the strongest person I knew. But you’re gone. And now I’m the one hiding, longing for someone to find my pain, my wallowing grief, my singular misery, my guilty sorrow, my untimely burdens. History repeats itself. Except… time keeps ticking, and I never feel like I’m moving. If only you could read this. I never write about you. But maybe I should start.

0

Mar 24

Mar 24, 2026 at 12:55 PM UTC

The Strongest Person I Knew

I never write about you. Maybe I should start. But the pages wouldn’t be big enough to hold all the important and nonchalant things that made you who you were. All the tiny, descriptive details. There will never be anybody like you. No one could love themselves that much. And still, sometimes, I catch myself doing things just the way you used to — the little things no one ever knew about you. But me. Because I saw every color and every bruise you suffered through. I weathered every hard day beside you. I listened to your mouth swear the same words over and over again. I watched you cry yourself to sleep. Every single night. I searched for the source of your hidden pain — the unbearable grief, the vast emptiness, the sharp agony, the unfortunate sorrow, the heavy burdens. You really were the strongest person I knew. But you’re gone. And now I’m the one hiding, longing for someone to find my pain, my wallowing grief, my singular misery, my guilty sorrow, my untimely burdens. History repeats itself. Except… time keeps ticking, and I never feel like I’m moving. If only you could read this. I never write about you. But maybe I should start.

48