justinw - Hello Poetry

My evenings lying in bed send me memories like an old carousel slide projector. I hear conversations reminiscent of a radio drama. Only to be smothered by the darkness and silence of sleep. - It kills me to hold this. To hope, to imagine, despite the end having passed. I feel like I am standing before a monument cast in bronze but now showing only the patina that it wears to protect itself. I speak to something that used to have a voice. I tell it that it is still the home I remember, while it looks back with a silence and stillness I cannot breach. I wait for it to move, to recognize me, but it is set there by circumstances in and out of its control. So deeply do I wish to embrace it, to cup its face and wipe the patina away to reveal the richness and depth of the bronze beneath. That is my fantasy, my imagined experience. But, all I can truly do is write this epigraph. You had a different, solitary experience. I know you felt underwater. That, as you fell deeper and deeper into that ocean of expectations and the pressures of things you couldn't meet, the weight kept building. There was only one escape. Only one way to free yourself of the burden of a million tons of thoughts and worries in your head. I don't blame you. I won't. I will not argue. You did what you needed to do, there was no other way. You protected yourself, and I'm grateful that you did what you could and committed an act of self-compassion. If there ever comes a day where the water recedes and you want to see who I am without the weight of those expectations, I am easy to find. But if that day never comes, or if you find your peace elsewhere, please know that is okay too. You don't owe me a return. You need to know though, if you return, you won't find anything except love here. There is no home for anything else. Care, consideration, and kindness are all that I can muster and all that I will ever offer. Even as time dulls the senses and those memories leak from my brain onto the pillow below me as I sleep, the core of it will remain. Love and the gentle heart, they are one thing. But please, trust that those are my feelings for you and not an expectation for you to meet. To me it simply, is. Regardless of your presence.

0

Apr 24

Apr 24, 2026 at 10:46 PM UTC

I hate the way I miss you and I love the way I long for you.

My evenings lying in bed send me memories like an old carousel slide projector. I hear conversations reminiscent of a radio drama. Only to be smothered by the darkness and silence of sleep. - It kills me to hold this. To hope, to imagine, despite the end having passed. I feel like I am standing before a monument cast in bronze but now showing only the patina that it wears to protect itself. I speak to something that used to have a voice. I tell it that it is still the home I remember, while it looks back with a silence and stillness I cannot breach. I wait for it to move, to recognize me, but it is set there by circumstances in and out of its control. So deeply do I wish to embrace it, to cup its face and wipe the patina away to reveal the richness and depth of the bronze beneath. That is my fantasy, my imagined experience. But, all I can truly do is write this epigraph. You had a different, solitary experience. I know you felt underwater. That, as you fell deeper and deeper into that ocean of expectations and the pressures of things you couldn't meet, the weight kept building. There was only one escape. Only one way to free yourself of the burden of a million tons of thoughts and worries in your head. I don't blame you. I won't. I will not argue. You did what you needed to do, there was no other way. You protected yourself, and I'm grateful that you did what you could and committed an act of self-compassion. If there ever comes a day where the water recedes and you want to see who I am without the weight of those expectations, I am easy to find. But if that day never comes, or if you find your peace elsewhere, please know that is okay too. You don't owe me a return. You need to know though, if you return, you won't find anything except love here. There is no home for anything else. Care, consideration, and kindness are all that I can muster and all that I will ever offer. Even as time dulls the senses and those memories leak from my brain onto the pillow below me as I sleep, the core of it will remain. Love and the gentle heart, they are one thing. But please, trust that those are my feelings for you and not an expectation for you to meet. To me it simply, is. Regardless of your presence.

12

I’m glad that I stayed And scraped at your door like a dog. You taught me that I should spare my nails For those that wouldn’t let them start to bleed.

0

Jan 10, 2025

Jan 10, 2025 at 12:24 PM UTC

Scratches

I’m glad that I stayed And scraped at your door like a dog. You taught me that I should spare my nails For those that wouldn’t let them start to bleed.

4

This is to myself. A reminder, A note, A warning. If she ever tries to come back, Don’t Let Her

0

Dec 31, 2024

Dec 31, 2024 at 11:32 AM UTC

Warning

This is to myself. A reminder, A note, A warning. If she ever tries to come back, Don’t Let Her

8

After everything you said. All the promises you made. You ran and tried to Avoid You took pieces of me. Sliced them from my skin. And left nothing but A void.

0

Dec 29, 2024

Dec 29, 2024 at 4:26 PM UTC

Coward

After everything you said. All the promises you made. You ran and tried to Avoid You took pieces of me. Sliced them from my skin. And left nothing but A void.

8

You’re probably busy. Every few minutes, like clockwork, I check my phone. I need to. Nope. You haven’t messaged back yet. It’s already been an hour. Insane. You or me? Probably just me. I had to put my phone on silent so I can gain control of it. Maybe I’m busy too. Schrodinger's text. By the simple fact of me not knowing you've messaged, you're actually waiting on me to respond. I won’t keep you waiting. Open. Deflate. Evaluate. Yeah, that one I sent was fine. But what if this one was too intense? Too scary. An hour and ten minutes. I get it. I don’t really like me either right now. Look at how I must sound over text. Clingy? Definitely. It reads: “Hope you had a good day. What did you get up to?” Sorry. It's a bit much. It prys. Like I need to know what’s going on every moment of your life. **** Maybe I can correct. I didn’t really mean to pry. I only want to talk to you. It’s totally okay if you don’t answer. I’m sorry for being so intrusive, just let me know if you think it was too much, or if that’s too much, it’s okay if you take a little bit to answer. You really don’t need to. I need you to. Because it eats me up inside that you’re not going to like me anymore after I asked such an awful question. I just need to know what you’re thinking. PLEASE! **** WHAT DID I DO WRONG? ...Gotta delete that. Rewrite it a couple times. Delete it all again because I like to think I have some sliver of self-awareness. Somehow. I wish I knew how I messed up. Turn off silent mode. If you don't message, I'll be fine. I could never talk to you again and I would be alright. Forced apathy. Attempted strength. And then, it is you. You’re not mad at me, and your message was very thoughtful. Maybe you were happy to see my message. This time. That’s good. I write a giddy little response. Excited for you to message back soon. And you do. But then you don’t. Every few minutes, like clockwork, I check my phone again. I need to.

0

Dec 5, 2024

Dec 5, 2024 at 6:51 AM UTC

Waiting for a text

You’re probably busy. Every few minutes, like clockwork, I check my phone. I need to. Nope. You haven’t messaged back yet. It’s already been an hour. Insane. You or me? Probably just me. I had to put my phone on silent so I can gain control of it. Maybe I’m busy too. Schrodinger's text. By the simple fact of me not knowing you've messaged, you're actually waiting on me to respond. I won’t keep you waiting. Open. Deflate. Evaluate. Yeah, that one I sent was fine. But what if this one was too intense? Too scary. An hour and ten minutes. I get it. I don’t really like me either right now. Look at how I must sound over text. Clingy? Definitely. It reads: “Hope you had a good day. What did you get up to?” Sorry. It's a bit much. It prys. Like I need to know what’s going on every moment of your life. **** Maybe I can correct. I didn’t really mean to pry. I only want to talk to you. It’s totally okay if you don’t answer. I’m sorry for being so intrusive, just let me know if you think it was too much, or if that’s too much, it’s okay if you take a little bit to answer. You really don’t need to. I need you to. Because it eats me up inside that you’re not going to like me anymore after I asked such an awful question. I just need to know what you’re thinking. PLEASE! **** WHAT DID I DO WRONG? ...Gotta delete that. Rewrite it a couple times. Delete it all again because I like to think I have some sliver of self-awareness. Somehow. I wish I knew how I messed up. Turn off silent mode. If you don't message, I'll be fine. I could never talk to you again and I would be alright. Forced apathy. Attempted strength. And then, it is you. You’re not mad at me, and your message was very thoughtful. Maybe you were happy to see my message. This time. That’s good. I write a giddy little response. Excited for you to message back soon. And you do. But then you don’t. Every few minutes, like clockwork, I check my phone again. I need to.

42