hhaley - Hello Poetry

We trade in what‑ifs like currency, building quiet futures over runny yolks and buttered toast, as we watch the trees bowing outside our apartment window. Sometimes I catch myself wondering if we are living our hypothetical if the loose strands of our lives have knotted themselves into eachother or if one day my name will come unstuck and fall from your lips. Still, I’m grateful to fall for whatever small measure of time I lived soft and certain cradled on your tongue and you on mine.

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Feb 2

Feb 2, 2026 at 10:09 PM UTC

Edited Hypotheticals

We trade in what‑ifs like currency, building quiet futures over runny yolks and buttered toast, as we watch the trees bowing outside our apartment window. Sometimes I catch myself wondering if we are living our hypothetical if the loose strands of our lives have knotted themselves into eachother or if one day my name will come unstuck and fall from your lips. Still, I’m grateful to fall for whatever small measure of time I lived soft and certain cradled on your tongue and you on mine.

15

I let it gather where the light doesn’t reach, seeping into the seams of the room, following the warped grain of the floor. The lines that mimic paths your hands traced on anything gentle enough to yield.

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Feb 2

Feb 2, 2026 at 10:09 PM UTC

Edited mirror pep talk

I let it gather where the light doesn’t reach, seeping into the seams of the room, following the warped grain of the floor. The lines that mimic paths your hands traced on anything gentle enough to yield.

6

Before I can steady myself, you rise in my throat, thick and unruly. Your name pools warm at the corners of my mouth, strings of sound unraveling like floss snagged on your teeth.

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Feb 2

Feb 2, 2026 at 10:08 PM UTC

Tooth Gap

Before I can steady myself, you rise in my throat, thick and unruly. Your name pools warm at the corners of my mouth, strings of sound unraveling like floss snagged on your teeth.

6

Let it peel off of me like strips of sunburned skin. The brittle layers crack, curl at the edges. I know how to feel without flinching. I will walk bare, pink and new relinquishing what I've shed. Let those crusted shields cling to earth, those paper-thin husks scuttling, a cicada’s shell in the wind. Sun‑bleached and unrecognizable, Here, in this ragged aftermath, Flesh open, I know how to feel without flinching.

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Aug 13, 2025

Aug 13, 2025 at 9:32 PM UTC

Sunburn

Let it peel off of me like strips of sunburned skin. The brittle layers crack, curl at the edges. I know how to feel without flinching. I will walk bare, pink and new relinquishing what I've shed. Let those crusted shields cling to earth, those paper-thin husks scuttling, a cicada’s shell in the wind. Sun‑bleached and unrecognizable, Here, in this ragged aftermath, Flesh open, I know how to feel without flinching.

14

You linger on my breath, biting at my tongue. Before I speak, words spill from my lips, dripping down my chin. Sentences tangle with saliva, like loose threads at your feet. I leave them to slither down the indentations in the floor, cracks in the wood symmetrical to the lines you drew on their bodies with your careful fingertips, gathering like dead skin under your nails.

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Feb 3, 2022

Feb 3, 2022 at 7:50 PM UTC

Linger

You linger on my breath, biting at my tongue. Before I speak, words spill from my lips, dripping down my chin. Sentences tangle with saliva, like loose threads at your feet. I leave them to slither down the indentations in the floor, cracks in the wood symmetrical to the lines you drew on their bodies with your careful fingertips, gathering like dead skin under your nails.

14

Those postcard summers, burnished by the sun, our feet suffering against the heat of the yellowing grass. We tripped over our sneaker strings, chasing the pavement, our feet peeking out from beneath frilled dresses. I remember how my chest clenched when the boy next door, with the hair we made fun of, tied your laces in double knots and left mine uncoiled. I remember how we drew the longest hopscotch, and the boy next door had his arm around your waist like a dress. My hands tickled my pockets for what use were they if not tangled with yours?

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Feb 3, 2022

Feb 3, 2022 at 7:46 PM UTC

Hopscotch

Those postcard summers, burnished by the sun, our feet suffering against the heat of the yellowing grass. We tripped over our sneaker strings, chasing the pavement, our feet peeking out from beneath frilled dresses. I remember how my chest clenched when the boy next door, with the hair we made fun of, tied your laces in double knots and left mine uncoiled. I remember how we drew the longest hopscotch, and the boy next door had his arm around your waist like a dress. My hands tickled my pockets for what use were they if not tangled with yours?

17

I’m afraid to miss the pictures we painted With the pads of our fingers In the haze of car windows. I'm afraid to walk past your house, to wait for you at your doorstep and find only the smudged signatures of snails scrawled across the concrete. I still need you when I’m weak and I'm trying not to be weak But its dark and I'm lonely and I wish I was running my hands across your face And I crave you always But I give you space

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Feb 3, 2022

Feb 3, 2022 at 7:36 PM UTC

Space

I’m afraid to miss the pictures we painted With the pads of our fingers In the haze of car windows. I'm afraid to walk past your house, to wait for you at your doorstep and find only the smudged signatures of snails scrawled across the concrete. I still need you when I’m weak and I'm trying not to be weak But its dark and I'm lonely and I wish I was running my hands across your face And I crave you always But I give you space

15

Tear off my lace with your teeth And In our vulnerable state we’ll think the world’s weight Has gone away, And I won’t feel scared Like I usually do. Fall into me And lull me away I'm tired of counting sheep Hold me till my skin stops shivering Kiss me till I fall asleep

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Feb 3, 2022

Feb 3, 2022 at 7:35 PM UTC

Rules, Decisions and I Just Want You

Tear off my lace with your teeth And In our vulnerable state we’ll think the world’s weight Has gone away, And I won’t feel scared Like I usually do. Fall into me And lull me away I'm tired of counting sheep Hold me till my skin stops shivering Kiss me till I fall asleep

11

I am living by the ocean, waiting for you to wash up with the waves. Hours stretch and yawn like a tabby cat lazily flicking its tail to the drum of a grandfather clock. Has time forgotten me? Has it left me abandoned? Crossing days off the calendar seems almost inconsequential. But, the moon still rises and sets tending to the tides like a mother. Missing you comes in waves, The stillness of a pond crescendoing to crash against the shore.

0

Feb 3, 2022

Feb 3, 2022 at 7:34 PM UTC

Waiting

I am living by the ocean, waiting for you to wash up with the waves. Hours stretch and yawn like a tabby cat lazily flicking its tail to the drum of a grandfather clock. Has time forgotten me? Has it left me abandoned? Crossing days off the calendar seems almost inconsequential. But, the moon still rises and sets tending to the tides like a mother. Missing you comes in waves, The stillness of a pond crescendoing to crash against the shore.

14