WatchMeWrithe - Hello Poetry

And every night I asked myself The same question "When will I stop thinking about you?" And every night Every answer Silence

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WatchMeWrithe

Sep 4, 2025

Sep 4, 2025 at 1:47 PM UTC

LanceRemir

Every Night

And every night I asked myself The same question "When will I stop thinking about you?" And every night Every answer Silence

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As I lie with you, your heartbeat knocks against my ribs, a bell tolling deep in the chapel of my chest, calling me down an aisle that only exists in blood Your breath drapes across my skin, a veiled tugged by invisible wind, thin lace of sound that makes the silence holy The veins in your wrist guide me like ribbons, leading me forward, row by row of my own devotion to a ceremony no one else can see. Your lips, parted, rest like unopened vows, a promise sealed in silence and yet I answer, against your sleeping mouth: I do, I do, I do. Your hair burns against my cheek, ginger strands glowing like altar flames, and your blue eyes , watchful, endless, press into me like stained glass, fragile and holy. The flowers you once gave me, Wilted now, their petals crumble to dust. I scatter them across the aisle of my chest, Their faded bodies marking the way to you. I take your hands in mine, fingers trembling across cold marble, and feel them guiding me, not to rings or vows, but to the altar of your pulse, the living hymn beneath your skin. Your voice, even unspoken, is an organ’s echo, a hymn written in the rafters of my chest And as I walk this wedding That never leaves my body, I realize the kiss never comes, the vows never spoken, the doors never open Only the hush of your chest rising and falling. It is all what could have been: a ceremony lit by the pulse of your wrist, a marriage carried only by my blood, an ending carved into silence, a marriage written across our bodies, a union sealed in my longing. And you, you are both bride and ghost, wrapped in my arms yet slipping through them, leaving me to whisper forever into the hollow of your throat: I do, I do, I do

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Sep 3, 2025

Sep 3, 2025 at 11:52 PM UTC

WatchMeWrithe

I do, I do, I do

As I lie with you, your heartbeat knocks against my ribs, a bell tolling deep in the chapel of my chest, calling me down an aisle that only exists in blood Your breath drapes across my skin, a veiled tugged by invisible wind, thin lace of sound that makes the silence holy The veins in your wrist guide me like ribbons, leading me forward, row by row of my own devotion to a ceremony no one else can see. Your lips, parted, rest like unopened vows, a promise sealed in silence and yet I answer, against your sleeping mouth: I do, I do, I do. Your hair burns against my cheek, ginger strands glowing like altar flames, and your blue eyes , watchful, endless, press into me like stained glass, fragile and holy. The flowers you once gave me, Wilted now, their petals crumble to dust. I scatter them across the aisle of my chest, Their faded bodies marking the way to you. I take your hands in mine, fingers trembling across cold marble, and feel them guiding me, not to rings or vows, but to the altar of your pulse, the living hymn beneath your skin. Your voice, even unspoken, is an organ’s echo, a hymn written in the rafters of my chest And as I walk this wedding That never leaves my body, I realize the kiss never comes, the vows never spoken, the doors never open Only the hush of your chest rising and falling. It is all what could have been: a ceremony lit by the pulse of your wrist, a marriage carried only by my blood, an ending carved into silence, a marriage written across our bodies, a union sealed in my longing. And you, you are both bride and ghost, wrapped in my arms yet slipping through them, leaving me to whisper forever into the hollow of your throat: I do, I do, I do

52

Carried my heart in silence, stitched it shut with resolve, but your shadow pressed against me until the seams began to fray. I told myself I could hold it, that you hadn’t earned the weight, but your love has a way of begging to be handed over anyway. So here it is, raw and shaking, the pulse I swore I’d hide a flickering flame in your hands, too bright, too fragile, too much of me to take back. I am not winning anymore. I am not guarding anymore. I am standing bare before you, letting you feel how I break when you breathe, when you turn, when you leave. Take it, then. My heart is yours, and with it, every reaction, every silence, every storm. This is what surrender looks like: not in war, but in love losing myself so you can finally see me.

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Sep 1, 2025

Sep 1, 2025 at 8:14 PM UTC

WatchMeWrithe

Raw and Shaking

Carried my heart in silence, stitched it shut with resolve, but your shadow pressed against me until the seams began to fray. I told myself I could hold it, that you hadn’t earned the weight, but your love has a way of begging to be handed over anyway. So here it is, raw and shaking, the pulse I swore I’d hide a flickering flame in your hands, too bright, too fragile, too much of me to take back. I am not winning anymore. I am not guarding anymore. I am standing bare before you, letting you feel how I break when you breathe, when you turn, when you leave. Take it, then. My heart is yours, and with it, every reaction, every silence, every storm. This is what surrender looks like: not in war, but in love losing myself so you can finally see me.

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