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I hope you know,



I’d still walk back through the fire.



Not because it didn’t burn, but because part of me knows that who I am now needed those ashes.


And I still believe in the warmth we almost became.



I’d still reach out first, still wait in the quiet, like a lantern left lit for someone who never returned.



Still smile through the cracks, still say I’m fine, while fading quietly into the darkness.



I hope you know, I never stopped loving you.



I just ran out of ways to prove it from a place where I was barely surviving.



Even when the silence grew sharp.



Even when I had nothing left but the echo of loving you.



When all I had left was a shadow of effort.



I know now I wasn’t fine, but I was still trying.



You just never cared what the trying was costing me.



Only what it was costing you, it seems.



You looked at my pain, and called it too much.



But I wasn’t broken.



I was just heavy, with things I didn’t know how to name aloud.



You mistook the weight for weakness, not seeing it was proof I’d carried hurt longer than anyone should have to.



Maybe you taught me the softness I now carry.



Or maybe I taught it to you, and we both forgot where it came from.



Some days… you’re the ghost of the most beautiful mistake I still make room for.



Other days… I see clearly how quickly you left, how you placed the weight of it all in my hands as you walked away.



And both of those truths live here, quietly fighting in the dark.



If you came back now… saying you missed me… I don’t know if I’d stay… or run away.



I think I’d smile, tell you I’m okay.



And I would be.



Because yes, you hurt me.



Not by playing games, but by leaving,



Right when I needed someone to stay.



Still, I loved you.



Still, I do.



And somehow, I’m learning to exist in the space between the two.



Still here.



Still me.



Just reshaped.



Still holding space for the version of me you never stayed long enough to see.



The one who wasn’t broken.



Just buried,



Beneath the weight of all the things you didn’t wait long enough to understand.
Tristan Corey Jul 17
I’d barely found my feet again
Still limping through the past
The ghost of it in every step
A love that couldn’t last
My heart, half-cast in plaster still
Not ready, or so I thought
But then you came, all windswept grace
And everything was caught



You, too, were learning how to walk
Each step a silent win
Your legs remembered far less than you
But fire burned within
We met somewhere between the falls
Between the brave and bruised
Two strangers with unfinished scars
And too much left to lose



We both wore masks in different ways
Each hiding what still hurt
Too much to carry all at once
Too scared to risk the worst
Yet still we laughed and touched the edge
Of something kind and new
And bit by bit, without intent
I let go of the past through you



But in my head the wires crossed
Too much I couldn’t name
The joy, the fear, the pull, the past
All playing the same game
I acted strange, not quite myself
Too distant, then too near
A tangled heart that couldn’t speak
A love that had met fear



I fancied you the way the moon
Pulls tides without a sound
Too soon, too much, yet there it was
My world turned upside down
We kissed beneath the car park lights
A moment raw and real
A rush of something kind and wild
I hadn’t meant to feel



Then later in your van
A life you’d built with care
You let me in, just for a breath
As if I’d always been there
And in your eyes, I saw a world
Of multi-colour blue
Like rock pools lit with changing light
Of shifting shades and hue



Still doubt would knock inside my chest
The past not fully gone
But in meeting you, I understood
That somehow I’m moving on
It wasn’t neat, it never is
Our laughter, the crutch, the stain
Two souls just trying not to fall
Yet stumbling through our pain



But there was something in your face
That made the chaos calm
A quiet knowing in the mess
A kindness like a balm
Connection, I am learning,
Doesn’t crash, it stumbles into view
Like learning how to walk again
With someone next to you



And maybe this was never meant
To last or be defined
But for a while, we found a pace
Where healing intertwined
So here’s to sand beneath our shoes
To kisses out of place
To vans and stars and aching hearts
That somehow found their space



We may not walk this road again
Or know what’s meant to be
But I’m thankful for the time we had
And all it has taught me
Tristan Corey Jul 17
No thunder breaks, no lightning flares,
just quiet storms that no one shares.
The sky is grey, but so am I,
and no one asks the reasons why.

I walk through crowds with hollow grace,
a borrowed smile upon my face.
Inside, the walls begin to cave,
each breath a battle I had to brave.

The world keeps turning, loud and bright,
but in my soul, there is no light.
Midnight in a midday hour,
my joy a wilted, ghostly flower.

I’ve cried beneath a clouded sky,
let raindrops mask the reason why.
Each teardrop blends and hides its name,
a perfect cloak for quiet shame.

They see the rain but not the ache,
the fractured heart that doesn’t break.
My pain is still, without a sound,
like roots that rot beneath the ground.

But sometimes, when the downpour clears,
a glimmer shines between the tears.
A softness in the afterglow,
a voice inside that starts to grow.

It says you’re here, and that is brave.
You’re not the flood you couldn’t stave.
You’re not the weight, the wound, the stain.
You are the one who walked through rain.
Tristan Corey Jul 17
Love is not in response,
but in presence,
with pain, with silence,
with the quiet ache beneath the words.

When someone truly sees you,
their fear is not losing you,
it’s hurting you.

Not losing access,
but causing harm.
That is love.

But when they love what you bring,
not who you are,
they fear the emptiness
of losing their supply,
not the breaking
of your heart.

Were you loved for who you are?
or what you gave?
or what you simply couldn’t give?

It’s a subtle line,
a delicate detail,
but, it says — everything…
Lesson in heartbreak
Tristan Corey Jul 17
We drifted apart,
a fate I never believed
would be ours.

You’ll say it was my fault,
but we both know
the story runs deeper than blame.
We loved – deeply,
but in different ways.

It ended
not from lack of feeling,
but because
you let go
while I was still
holding on with both hands,
still willing to fight
for what we had.

And maybe that’s
the quiet tragedy –
not that we stopped loving,
but that only one of us
kept believing.
Tristan Corey Mar 28
The tulips teach me that beauty
can return even after the frost,
The sunflowers remind me to turn
towards the light,
And the forget-me-nots whisper softly
that some things are meant to be remembered,
not lost.
Tristan Corey Mar 28
I do not write to speak,
but to bury,
to press my sorrows into the earth
like seeds I never meant to grow.

Pain does not leave when you ask it to,
it lingers, it echoes, it stabs,
it carves its name into your chest,
Then you whisper it onto a page,
and call it poetry,
or prayer,
or just another night alone.

There are days I drown in the ache,
where my voice cracks under its weight,
where the silence swallows me whole,
and I let it —
I cannot stop it.

But healing is not a sudden bloom,
it is a slow, stubborn crawl,
fingers clawing through the dirt,
digging ever deeper,
pulling out the pieces of who I was
to build the person I am becoming.

And what I’ve learnt is this,
writing is not about expression,
it is about excavation,
and I am still digging
my way towards the sun.
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