besspoetry - Hello Poetry

you keep your coat on the hook by the door, the one you swore you’d fix when the screws loosened. your shoes still lean into mine like they remember how we used to stand closer than this you say you’re tired. i tell you i know. the words fall between us— a pair of lights flickering in an empty room. the bed sinks only on your half at dawn, warmth leaving before the light arrives. i trace the shape of where you slept, studying a map of where we used to meet in the middle. the coffee *** clicks but you don’t wait for the first drip. i drink mine slow, listening for something you forgot to take with you. i fold your sweatshirt the way you like it, just to remember how it felt to care for something that still cared back. maybe tomorrow you’ll stay long enough for the coffee to finish. maybe tomorrow we’ll meet again in the middle.

0

Dec 10, 2025

Dec 10, 2025 at 1:12 PM UTC

coffee ***

you keep your coat on the hook by the door, the one you swore you’d fix when the screws loosened. your shoes still lean into mine like they remember how we used to stand closer than this you say you’re tired. i tell you i know. the words fall between us— a pair of lights flickering in an empty room. the bed sinks only on your half at dawn, warmth leaving before the light arrives. i trace the shape of where you slept, studying a map of where we used to meet in the middle. the coffee *** clicks but you don’t wait for the first drip. i drink mine slow, listening for something you forgot to take with you. i fold your sweatshirt the way you like it, just to remember how it felt to care for something that still cared back. maybe tomorrow you’ll stay long enough for the coffee to finish. maybe tomorrow we’ll meet again in the middle.

29

I crease inwards like origami inside this humid summer night skin of sugar and sweat feeling inevitable, waiting I’m not ready to say goodbye if only you could trace my smile like an architect, uncover the splintered shape of the city we met in entangled in my tendons and bones I’d let you watch me destroy it all I’d let you hold the end of me as I hold the beginning

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Aug 25, 2021

Aug 25, 2021 at 11:18 AM UTC

origami

I crease inwards like origami inside this humid summer night skin of sugar and sweat feeling inevitable, waiting I’m not ready to say goodbye if only you could trace my smile like an architect, uncover the splintered shape of the city we met in entangled in my tendons and bones I’d let you watch me destroy it all I’d let you hold the end of me as I hold the beginning

11

my bed sits, empty as my pocket bearing nothing more than your old promises collecting dust, waiting to be heard again by someone willing to listen. it breaks me down, every time I feel you near me haunting my empty bed with your sharp teeth. my body knows your words can still cut me at my throat so I wait patiently, for your blade to appear beside me without your hand to hold it.

0

Oct 13, 2020

Oct 13, 2020 at 2:49 PM UTC

haunting

my bed sits, empty as my pocket bearing nothing more than your old promises collecting dust, waiting to be heard again by someone willing to listen. it breaks me down, every time I feel you near me haunting my empty bed with your sharp teeth. my body knows your words can still cut me at my throat so I wait patiently, for your blade to appear beside me without your hand to hold it.

14

your letters, written to coax an empty heart. an illusion written with dying lead, begging to fade away. it is still beautiful, marching in formation on the loose leaf paper towards the end. your signature, which stands to be the only thing left true. I keep it, a reminder how lies are beautiful in your handwriting.

0

Mar 24, 2020

Mar 24, 2020 at 6:34 PM UTC

your handwriting

your letters, written to coax an empty heart. an illusion written with dying lead, begging to fade away. it is still beautiful, marching in formation on the loose leaf paper towards the end. your signature, which stands to be the only thing left true. I keep it, a reminder how lies are beautiful in your handwriting.

10

you say, I am too much for you, similar to never being enough. I find myself staggered between the tipping of the scale. balance is the illusion that gravity has created to pull you closer to me. why must I lose parts of myself for you to finally see me?

0

Mar 10, 2020

Mar 10, 2020 at 3:33 PM UTC

balance (?)

you say, I am too much for you, similar to never being enough. I find myself staggered between the tipping of the scale. balance is the illusion that gravity has created to pull you closer to me. why must I lose parts of myself for you to finally see me?

9

the piano you played for me their keys light like the sun in your eyes gently playing me a song we wrote between shared cups of tea, picked flowers in the field shoved into a pocket always big enough to fit both of our hands.

0

Feb 27, 2020

Feb 27, 2020 at 11:47 AM UTC

a little love poem

the piano you played for me their keys light like the sun in your eyes gently playing me a song we wrote between shared cups of tea, picked flowers in the field shoved into a pocket always big enough to fit both of our hands.

7

my life line moves across your chest your love line inches towards my lower back reading your palms under the thin covers summer air blows into our hair permeating the smell of grass and warm flowers we embrace the unknowable future crushed between our palms.

0

Feb 24, 2020

Feb 24, 2020 at 3:07 PM UTC

your palms

my life line moves across your chest your love line inches towards my lower back reading your palms under the thin covers summer air blows into our hair permeating the smell of grass and warm flowers we embrace the unknowable future crushed between our palms.

12