hayleyqsick - Hello Poetry

Your words grow like ivy, creeping through me, invading every inch. Winding around my ribs— beautiful, dangerous— suffocating beneath the shadows, between each crack.

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Feb 21

Feb 21, 2026 at 12:06 AM UTC

Ivy

Your words grow like ivy, creeping through me, invading every inch. Winding around my ribs— beautiful, dangerous— suffocating beneath the shadows, between each crack.

7

May my heart never heal, so I may never forget

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Feb 20

Feb 20, 2026 at 11:45 PM UTC

Yearning

May my heart never heal, so I may never forget

2

Waiting Always waiting — I creep into my own dreams Waiting for them to become reality Living in another time Grieving what was Never mine Waiting Always waiting — For my life to begin For a time when my mind And my body join in

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Dec 27, 2021

Dec 27, 2021 at 1:35 PM UTC

Waiting

Waiting Always waiting — I creep into my own dreams Waiting for them to become reality Living in another time Grieving what was Never mine Waiting Always waiting — For my life to begin For a time when my mind And my body join in

12

Death’s mouth holds tight, His secrets kept under his tongue. And while he has no preferences No treasured No dearest No prized, He has a schedule, That he must abide.

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Dec 15, 2021

Dec 15, 2021 at 11:27 PM UTC

Death Abides

Death’s mouth holds tight, His secrets kept under his tongue. And while he has no preferences No treasured No dearest No prized, He has a schedule, That he must abide.

8

In the pursuit of death, We are halted by the occurrence of life, Debted to hope And tolled by the terrene

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Dec 15, 2021

Dec 15, 2021 at 11:25 PM UTC

Tolls Paid

In the pursuit of death, We are halted by the occurrence of life, Debted to hope And tolled by the terrene

4

Fog seeps through every inch of me Distorting my views of You Cleansing me of each thought of You These bleak misunderstandings of You Because it was really never actually about You

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Dec 15, 2021

Dec 15, 2021 at 9:44 PM UTC

Bleak Misunderstandings

Fog seeps through every inch of me Distorting my views of You Cleansing me of each thought of You These bleak misunderstandings of You Because it was really never actually about You

9

when you call me by my name it’s a warm cup of coffee on a cold morning the scent wafting room to room the sleep in my eyes just falls away and although I can’t see you I can hear the smile on your lips and I can feel the warmth in your chest when you call me by my name

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Jan 23, 2019

Jan 23, 2019 at 2:00 AM UTC

(when you call me by my name)

when you call me by my name it’s a warm cup of coffee on a cold morning the scent wafting room to room the sleep in my eyes just falls away and although I can’t see you I can hear the smile on your lips and I can feel the warmth in your chest when you call me by my name

8

space is never ending between you and me stretching and bending finding ways to grow quietly moving and expanding

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Jan 22, 2019

Jan 22, 2019 at 10:35 PM UTC

(between you and me)

space is never ending between you and me stretching and bending finding ways to grow quietly moving and expanding

6

You act like the world owes you A broken beaten girl that gives all she has But you're no different You're not special You give no more and no less Just fall Let your wounds bleed You are owed absolutely nothing

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Jul 25, 2017

Jul 25, 2017 at 1:49 AM UTC

What You Are Owed

You act like the world owes you A broken beaten girl that gives all she has But you're no different You're not special You give no more and no less Just fall Let your wounds bleed You are owed absolutely nothing

8

maybe that wasn't really me that drowning sinking feeling or the crisp autumn air that touched my cheeks maybe that was just-- oh but what if it was me? what a sweet feeling to know that I was alive even though I was dying to know that I had lived even though my last thought my last breath may be the ones currently occupying that space in which I most certainly was-- and then when it did go black when there truly was nothing left and my body no longer recognized what it saw what it felt what it hoped what it dreamed yes, when there was truly nothing left-- ahh I see yes, how silly to think that it wasn't me brushed with the feeling of wet pavement a glimpse of the churning grey sky on the other side and my thoughts became so small that the color red became irrelevant and my skin such a porcelain white touched by many hands but none were mine-- how silly really to think I was still alive -h.j.-

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Sep 26, 2015

Sep 26, 2015 at 12:01 AM UTC

(dying)

maybe that wasn't really me that drowning sinking feeling or the crisp autumn air that touched my cheeks maybe that was just-- oh but what if it was me? what a sweet feeling to know that I was alive even though I was dying to know that I had lived even though my last thought my last breath may be the ones currently occupying that space in which I most certainly was-- and then when it did go black when there truly was nothing left and my body no longer recognized what it saw what it felt what it hoped what it dreamed yes, when there was truly nothing left-- ahh I see yes, how silly to think that it wasn't me brushed with the feeling of wet pavement a glimpse of the churning grey sky on the other side and my thoughts became so small that the color red became irrelevant and my skin such a porcelain white touched by many hands but none were mine-- how silly really to think I was still alive -h.j.-

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