RJ - Hello Poetry

RJ Jul 27

My dreams are not soft things
They do not whisper or drift
They crash into me
Like memory
Like loss I never earned but still carry

I see faces I’ve never touched
Eyes that look through me like they’ve known me for lifetimes
Hands that reach
Just as I begin to fall

I wake with stories still unfolding
Mouth half-formed around names that vanish
Chest aching with love
for people I’ve never met outside my sleep

Sometimes I lie still
Eyes open
But not here
Not ready to belong to this body
this room
this gravity

Reality waits
with its empty inboxes and worn-out clocks
It doesn’t ask if I’m okay
It just goes on
as if I didn’t just leave a world that almost felt like home

But I keep waking
Even when it hurts
Even when the dream begs me to stay
Because somewhere in the quiet ache of morning
There’s a sliver of light
A whisper that maybe
what I dream
is a map
not a mistake

And maybe one day
I’ll follow it back
not to sleep
but to something real
that finally feels
like dreaming with my eyes open

RJ Jul 25

When All Else Fails

When all else fails, when lights grow dim
And hope retreats past broken rim
When silence folds the world in two
And nothing shines the way it used to

Breathe. Just breathe. Let seconds pass
Let pain fall soft like blades of grass
For in the hush of wreck and rain
The soul still hums beneath the strain

When all else fails, when hearts go cold
And dreams collapse or lose their hold
When hands once held now fall away
And even prayers forget to stay

Stand. Just stand. Though knees may shake
Though every fiber longs to break
Some truths outlive the storm’s command
You still are here. You still can stand

When all else fails and night is near
Let courage rise inside the fear
A spark survives in darkest shade
A light that loss cannot unmake

So fail, then rise. Let go, then feel
The wound may weep but still, you heal
For when all else has turned to dust
Still, you remain. And still, you must

RJ Jul 25

Who I Used To Be

The days are spent in quiet chase,
A steady march, a changing pace,
I wander through the shifting streams,
The echoes of my fractured dreams.

I used to know exactly where,
The road would lead me, how I'd fare.
But now the map is worn and torn,
Still, I walk though I've been worn.

There’s strength in letting go, I’ve learned,
In fading lights, in bridges burned.
Yet in the dark, I still might see
A glimmer of who I used to be.

So here I stand, with both my hands,
I’ll write my future from the sands.
The past is never far away,
It guides the steps I take today.

I’m not who I was, but I still strive,
The heart that once felt dead is alive.
And though it’s me who shapes the way,
I am reborn in each new day.

RJ Jul 24

Still Breathing

I’ve been dragged through nights that had no stars,
Wounds too deep to stitch with scars.
The silence screamed, the darkness fed
But somehow, I rose from where I bled.

I’ve lost the ones I swore I’d keep,
Made promises I couldn’t reap.
Watched dreams fall like brittle leaves,
Still wore my heart on both my sleeves.

I’ve drowned in thoughts that wouldn’t die,
Fought storms behind a crooked smile.
Each breath was war, but I refused
To let the weight become my noose.

You see a body, bruised and worn,
But I’m a soul that’s battle-born.
No halo here, no perfect frame,
Just fire rising from the flame.

So if I’m quiet, don’t mistake
This calm for peace or a lucky break.
I’ve seen too much to play pretend
But I’m still here. And that won’t end.

I’m still breathing... against the tide,
Still walking with the pain inside.
Not flawless. Not fixed. Not yet free…
But I’m still breathing. And that’s enough for me.

RJ Jul 15

Back To Where I Left Myself

I’ve been away too long.
Not just from the place
but from me.

There’s a version of myself
somewhere in Florida,
still standing on the porch,
waiting for me to come back
and finish the story.

When I left,
I didn’t choose it.
I was sixteen,
following orders,
packing up things
I never wanted to leave behind.
Pieces of me
got scattered across the map
but the biggest one
stayed right there.

This place I’m in now,
it don’t feel like mine.
The sun hits different.
The air don’t hold memory.
Even the silence is unfamiliar.
Like I’m just borrowing life
instead of living it.

I don’t want to escape.
I just want to return.
To the streets that raised me,
to the past that never got closure,
to the roots that still call my name
like I’m overdue.

Going back
ain’t about comfort.
It’s about freedom.
It’s about walking the same streets
as a man this time
on my terms.
With all I’ve learned.
With nothing left unsaid.

I’ve had the brakes on
since I left.
But I’m ready now.
Not to rewind
but to reclaim.

Home isn’t just a place.
It’s where I start moving forward
for real.

RJ Jul 14

This Place Isn't Home

I walk these streets
like I’m wearing someone else’s shoes.
They fit,
but they don’t feel right.
Every step echoes louder
than the silence around me.

This place—
it looks fine on the surface.
Blue skies,
clean sidewalks,
people smiling like everything’s figured out.
But I don’t belong here.
Not really.

It’s not the buildings.
Not the weather.
It’s the energy.
Cold in the way
that gets inside your chest.
Like no one sees you
unless you perform for them.
Like if you speak your truth,
they’ll flinch.

I’ve tried to settle in.
Tried to make it feel right.
But every time I look around,
I feel like I’m standing in a room
where the walls are inching closer,
slow—
but constant.

There’s no familiar here.
No faces that remember me
before I built these defenses.
No spots where my memories live.
Just empty space
and routines that feel borrowed.

I talk to myself more now.
Not ‘cause I’m crazy,
but ‘cause it’s the only conversation
that sounds like home.

I’m not even asking
for perfect.
I’m just tired
of feeling like a ghost
in my own life.

This place don’t get me.
It never did.
And the longer I stay,
the more I forget
what it felt like
to be full.

But I haven’t given up.
Not yet.
Because somewhere
maybe back home,
maybe somewhere new
there’s a place
where I’ll breathe deep
and finally exhale.

And when I find it,
I’ll know:
this time, I’m not leaving myself behind.

RJ Jul 12

Im Still Learning

I’ve been through enough
to know silence can be louder than screams.
Enough to know
“I'm fine” usually means
I'm not.

I’ve had nights
where the weight got heavy,
but I held it anyway.
No applause.
No witness.
Just me
and the dark
playing tug-of-war with my peace.

But I never let go.
Even when I wanted to.

There’s a version of me
I used to mourn
the one before the heartbreak,
before the trust got shattered,
before I learned
people only love you
when it's easy.

Now I move slower,
but wiser.
I speak less,
but mean more.
I lost some friends,
but I found my spine.

The ink on my hand
ain’t decoration
it’s declaration.
Proof I’ve made it this far,
even if the road
was more cuts than comfort.

I don’t expect perfect anymore.
Just real.
Just effort.
Just peace that don’t ask me
to shrink to fit inside it.

I’m not healed,
but I’m healing.
Not fearless,
but brave.
Still got days
where I look in the mirror
and ask,
“Am I really built for this?”

And every time,
my reflection answers,
“You really are.”