I once was so sad
I came here and found a community
People like me
Restless and needing understanding
Lovely people
My account was hacked and I lost everything
I didn’t even get to say goodbye
Or even copy my poetry
The seen and the hidden
I have missed my friends so much
If anyone remembers me
Please let me know
The hugs will be endless
I have suffered the loss of you all
Deb

pink skies played from the sky every day and we listened like it was the first time, every time, together. i miss the feeling of a warm circle, a communal dinner, and the never ending creaking doors i grew to love. you can photograph a beautiful forest, you can't recreate the sounds of life. these days the silence lets itself in slowly, discreet. the door behind it doesn't creak. by dark it is the loudest thing in the room. i fear the day it no longer makes a sound. i promise myself i will not get used to the presence of absence and all its subtleties in a way that feels like a race. the only unwanted guest. no place at this table, no chance to settle in

The silvers of influence
spill from the moon’s palm,
soft over skin warmed
by a beach day’s hush.

Here, paradise breathes —
not loud, but in sighs,
where seafoam curls
around ankle and ache.

Your gaze, dark as onyx,
doesn’t just look —
it lingers.
A smooth promise,
ripe with unspoken tides.

And I —
I unravel,
seduced by salt air
and the weight
of being seen.

🎀  𝒩𝒶𝒾𝓃𝒶 𝒥𝒶𝓃𝒾  🎀

They argue in threads they barely read,
Just dopamine and capslocked tweets.
No questions asked, no space to try —
PEOPLE READ, NOT TO UNDERSTAND BUT TO REPLY.

my mother raising her long awaited grandchildren,
my father building his tenth construction project,
my sister in her most difficult criminal case yet,
my brother flying a steady flight (or perhaps surveying lands),
my friends calling if they can come around,
my clients asking for their mandatory appearance,
my cousins sleeping over my house,
my dreams lingering around, growing and growing
my love, you, beside me in every aging second
my story expanding through the rules of time
Older, we are,
and we are still here.

silverstains on my ring finger
books annotated, written, and read by two
Gertrude Aletheia Juneau
board games and puzzles in dim light
small fists tugging the hem of your big shirt
minds thinking alike, lips speaking kind
Good morning, I love you, Good night

the most vulnerably
intimate i can be
with someone is
to meet their eyes—
to dive,
drown,
weep,
reckon,
long,
surrender,
burrow,
sink
in the silent depth
of their
naked truth.
and surely,
i will be left too smitten
to ever
look away.