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2.7k · Mar 2
If you return
Mary Huxley Mar 2
If you return,
do not knock,
the door has memorized your hands.

If you leave,
do not turn back,
the wind carries only forward.
1.5k · Feb 23
Etched in my soul.
Mary Huxley Feb 23
I carved your name in the stars, but the dawn stole their light.
I whispered your name to the moon, but it faded into the night.
So I etched your name in my soul, where time cannot erase,
A love so deep, eternal, in its quiet, sacred place.
1.4k · Mar 5
Unspoken
Mary Huxley Mar 5
I carry worlds within my chest,
silent storms I don’t confess.
A smile, a nod,a quiet plea,
hoping someone sees through me.
799 · Apr 14
Where Good-bye Got Lost
Mary Huxley Apr 14
I wore his vest,
trading stained threads
for something that smelled
just like him.

Bare legs, quiet room—
his eyes found mine,
and I swear,
time leaned in to listen.

"Just forehead kisses,"
I whispered once,
twice—
trying to stay soft
when my heart wasn’t.

But he looked at me
like I was still his,
like the ache between us
wasn’t ready to end.

His hands at my waist,
his breath on my cheek,
the silence hummed,
sweet and weak—

And then,
before goodbye could speak…
I kissed him—
once,
long,
slow,
like we forgot what leaving meant.
773 · Apr 23
Existing
Mary Huxley Apr 23
Some days, I smile and I don’t know why,
Other days, I sit and just let time slide by.
Coffee gets cold, texts go unread,
Thoughts spinning circles inside my head.

Some days, I win little fights with my doubt,
Other days, I barely crawl out.
But I breathe, I try, I take one more stride
And that, for today, is enough on my side.
652 · May 30
The worst Kind of pain
Mary Huxley May 30
It’s not the heartbreak that screams.
It’s the silence that follows.
The way someone becomes a stranger
while their memories still live in your chest.
How they laugh with others the way they used to with you—
and you pretend it doesn’t sting.
You act okay.
You smile.
But inside, you're mourning someone who’s still alive,
just no longer yours.
543 · Aug 2024
Ecstacy
Mary Huxley Aug 2024
In a world of whispers and dreams,
Where the moon dances in silver streams,
Hearts beat in rhythm, a gentle song,
In the twilight where we belong.

Underneath the starlit sky so vast,
Moments cherished, never surpassed,
In your eyes, a universe I see,
Together, forever wild and free.

Where love resides in the chambers of the heart,
Your name still beeps,
You're my happy place
278 · Jun 28
Friendship
Mary Huxley Jun 28
I want to experience friendship,
Not just one sided friendship —
A two way Loving friendship.

I yearn for a moment in life ,
Where I would not have to prove my worth—
Just to be loved.

I'm tired of reaching out,
Check-in all the time,
Fixing doors I didn't break,
Closing all loopholes,
I need a break .

I crave warmth and comfort,
From just one soul,
That would root for me ,
Just as I would
240 · Apr 17
I grieve
Mary Huxley Apr 17
I grieve for my soul,
For the number of times I let people walk over it,
I grieve for my heart,
For letting people in ,
I grieve for myself,
For allowing all the garbage —
The hateful disposal,
To get inside of me,
I grieve...
Yes ,I do ,
With great pain
Mary Huxley Apr 9
People like me
don’t speak much—
we read silence
like it’s scripture,
watching the way shadows fall
on people’s faces
when truth gets too loud.

I learned early
that softness
gets mistaken
for weakness,
and honesty
for cruelty.

So I became
a quiet kind of storm—
rage in my ribs,
kindness in my palms,
resentment
sitting neatly behind my teeth.

Some days I’m tired
of pretending I don’t feel it all.
Of swallowing the world
just to keep peace
with people who
would never carry
a piece of me.

But I still stay quiet.
Because people like me
don’t speak much.
We bleed in poems.
Mary Huxley Jun 20
There are days you look at the mirror,
admiring yourself,
congratulating yourself
for surviving what no one saw.

But there are days—
you sink into the sorrow of the unknowns,
the weight of unanswered prayers,
the silence that grows too loud.

There are days you smile,
not because all is well,
but because you’ve learned
how to wear light even in the dark.
154 · Apr 20
When I was small
Mary Huxley Apr 20
When I was small, I thought the stars
Were holes in heaven, not so far.
I used to dream with eyes so wide,
Believing magic never died.

I laughed at rain and danced with wind,
Every scar could always mend.
The world was big, but I was bold—
A heart so young, a hand to hold.

But growing up can steal the spark,
Replace bright skies with shades of dark.
You learn the truth, you feel the ache,
You see the smiles that people fake.

Still deep inside, that child remains,
Running wild in summer rains.
Whispers soft behind the noise—
The one who still believes in joys.

So if you’re lost or feeling low,
Just find the you from years ago.
Hold their hand and don’t let go—
They'll guide you home. They always know.
122 · Jun 25
Another Tuesday
Mary Huxley Jun 25
I wake,
but I don’t arrive.

I brush my teeth,
scroll my phone,
drink my thoughts
with lukewarm tea.

The clock ticks,
not like a heartbeat
but like a metronome
keeping time
for a song I no longer sing.

I answer emails,
nod in meetings,
smile where it fits.
I am present,
but not here.
Every day feels
like a copy
of a copy
of a dream I once had.

I miss surprises.
I miss meaning.
I miss the version of me
that thought this would feel
like living.

But I keep going.
One task. One sigh.
One “maybe tomorrow
I’ll feel something.”

Because even machines
need maintenance.
And I
am still
trying
to stay alive.
80 · Jun 29
Just venting
Mary Huxley Jun 29
I miss seeing random text from my "friends",
The moment I stopped texting,
They also did,
Am I unlucky?

I remember putting efforts into "thee friendship",
But the effort was never matched,
I texted First, told them Random stories,
Planned dates,
Initiated most of the things.

I don't whether I am angered or disappointed,
I'm just hurting,
It feels silent.
I'm Just venting
Deleting this after I eat 😭😭
73 · Jun 25
The years don't ask
Mary Huxley Jun 25
I didn’t notice myself changing—
until I did.
One day,
my laugh didn’t echo the same.
My eyes
stopped believing as quickly.

Childhood slipped off
like a sweater in summer
quietly,
forgotten on a chair.

Dreams I swore I’d chase
now gather dust
in unopened folders
and fading notebooks.

The mirror grew honest.
My knees, less kind.
Time,
less patient.

I miss how time once felt—
limitless.
Like I could waste it
and it would wait for me.

Now,
every birthday feels like
a sigh I didn’t mean to let out.

But here I am—
still unfolding,
still becoming,
even if it’s slower now.

Because youth doesn’t vanish,
it just leaves quietly,
with soft hands
and no apology.
69 · Jun 29
Tsssssssssss
Mary Huxley Jun 29
I need a break —
A break from my thoughts,
From people,
From everything around me.

I'm tired of everything,
I need a silent 365 days,
Just to cool,
To calm ,
my soul and body.
69 · Jun 24
HOME IS A MOVING THING
Mary Huxley Jun 24
I used to think
home had a door.
A key.
A roof that remembered my name.

But I’ve lived in places
that never made space for my silence.
Places that knew my footsteps
but not my fears.

I carry pieces of home
in chipped mugs,
in songs that smell like childhood,
in people I no longer speak to.

Sometimes, home is a voice,
cracked with laughter
in a place I had to leave.

Sometimes, it’s a moment
sunlight on tired skin,
or the way someone says
“You can rest here.”

I’ve learned
that belonging doesn’t always mean staying,
and leaving doesn’t mean forgetting.

Home isn’t always where you were born.
Sometimes,
it’s where you stopped pretending.
I don’t know if I’ve found mine yet.
But I know what it isn’t.
And that’s something.
Home
I await
63 · Jun 26
Uneven Goodbyes
Mary Huxley Jun 26
I wish I didn’t miss you—
not like this,
not in the quiet where your silence screams.
I wish I moved on like you did,
graceful,
as if love never lived here.

You don’t miss me—not like I miss you.
You don’t crave me in the hollow hours,
don’t check if I breathed you in my dreams.
You’ve unlearned the rhythm of us,
while I still hum it in the dark.

I feel stuck,
my heart in rewind
while yours skipped forward
like we never happened.

You don’t call anymore.
I know.
We’re not one.
Not us.
Not now.

But I still call.
Still text.
Still ache.

And maybe what hurts the most
isn’t losing you—
but how fast
you chose
to forget me.
Unrequited love
I'll never understand how fast people move on
How do you forget the rhythm
53 · Jun 29
A letter to my saviour
Mary Huxley Jun 29
Dear Saviour
You not only died for my freedom,
But You also loved me unconditionally.
Today, I messed up.
I know I promised You that I'd never do it again—
But I did.

In the stillness of my mind,
Thoughts flooded in.
I created scenarios.
It's safe to say
They overpowered me.

Let me admit—
My crime lies deeply in the veins of life.
Or maybe ,
let me call it the beginning of knowing.
It just happened.
I didn’t understand at the time.
The more I grew,
The clearer the picture became.

I craved that sin
More than I acknowledged it.
Before I knew it, I dined with it.
Not only did I dine with it—
But also with its companions.
The companions came in my dreams,
Teased me, left me feeling naked and used.
I woke up
And went to dine with sin again.

Dear Saviour,
I am guilty.
But at what cost—my life?
Abide with me
As You forgive and grant me ease.

To be human is to be tempted.
To be human is to know when to agree,
And when to say no.
Dear Saviour,
Look at my flesh—
It's leaking.

Forgive my iniquity.
Grant me mercy.
Don't take Your face away from me
I just wrote this,words were just flowing,
I don't have a specific scenario or interpretation
However you relate to it, that's just it


Xoxo
52 · Jun 29
Ease
Mary Huxley Jun 29
There's an unending flow —
Or maybe a flood,
My mind is racing like a high-speed engine,
My thoughts are like a torrent,
There's no silence.

But the echoes grow louder,
Like voices in a vast, empty hall—
Each one pulling me in a different direction.
I need a break from my thoughts .

I need total shutdown,
To breathe.
Mary Huxley Jun 24
I pray in whispers
not because I’m shy,
but because silence
seems to listen better than people.

Sometimes,
I think God forgets
which room I’m in.
Or maybe He knocked
when I wasn’t brave enough
to answer.

The holy books say
He’s everywhere,
but some days,
I only find Him
in the ache behind my ribs.

I light candles
for things I’ve stopped asking for.
Hope burns slower
when it’s quiet.

I’ve fasted,
knelt,
cried into pillowcases
instead of altars—
but maybe they’re the same thing.

Faith, to me,
isn't certainty.
It's choosing to believe
while still bleeding doubt.
To the answerer of men.
Mary Huxley Jun 29
Once upon literature,
There lived a writer,
Whose pen bled—
Every second of her day.
She had no one to listen,
So she spoke to the page—
And the page listened in silence.

There lived a great man
In the beginning of inking,
A man whose pen carved echoes into eternity.
He wrote not for fame,
But because his soul demanded it—
Every letter, a whisper from his depths,
Every sentence, a bridge between pain and purpose.
You didn’t slam the door.
You didn’t scream.
You just…
stopped arriving.

No final word,
no cracked goodbye.
Just space
where you used to be.

Grief didn’t knock—
it slipped in
through the silence
and made itself at home.

I still set the table for two,
in my mind.
Still expect your voice
in rooms
you never returned to.

How do you mourn
someone
who never said they were leaving?
I keep replaying the last moment
we shared
like it was meant to mean something.
But maybe it was just…
a Tuesday.

You left like smoke—
no shape,
no sound,
just scent on my clothes
and a burn I can't place.

— The End —