Maryann I

Maryann I 50m

I loved you in a way you’ll never know,
a silent tide, a hidden glow.
A candle flickering in the rain,
burning bright despite the pain.

Your name lived softly on my tongue,
a melody I left unsung.
My hands reached out, but not too far,
too scared to grasp a falling star.

And so, I watched, and so, I stayed,
a love unspoken, left to fade.
Not by you, but by the hour
that let me bloom, but not in flower.

4. Unfulfilled Love

#longing #unrequited #heartache #yearning

Maryann I 2h

Red-Stained Hands

I scrub my hands, the color stays,
a crimson thread through all my days.
No river drowns, no fire burns,
the past still twists, the memory turns.

Their voice still lingers in the air,
a fading ghost, a hollow prayer.
I trace the steps I can’t erase,
shadows whisper, time won’t chase.

The mirror sighs, it knows my name,
a hymn of blame beneath its breath.
And though the world still spins the same,
I bear the weight—I wait for death.

3. The Weight of Guilt

#remorse #accountability #regret #consequences

Maryann I 2h

Hollow Rooms

Footsteps echo through empty halls,
a voice left speaking to the walls.
The sun forgets to warm my skin,
the air is thick, the world wears thin.

I reach for hands that don’t exist,
fingertips brush the air in vain.
Laughter drifts from distant streets,
but silence sings my name again.

The night hums low, the moon stands tall,
but I have no one left to call.
My words dissolve, they go unread—
a story told, but never said.

2. Isolation and Loneliness

#solitude #desolation #alienation #empty

Maryann I 4h

The Unseen Offering

I laid my hands upon the altar,
knuckles bruised from silent prayers,
whispers turned to fleeting echoes,
lost among the empty air.

I built you bridges out of marrow,
stitched the stars into your sky,
gave you light when nights were hollow,
yet you never asked me why.

My name fades in nameless hours,
scattered like the autumn leaves,
a monument of quiet labor
built for those who never grieve.

And still, I stand, arms outstretched,
woven from the threads of care.
The world moves on—I disappear,
a ghost who gave, yet none were there.

1. Sacrifice Without Reward

#unacknowledged #selflessness #invisible #devotion

Maryann I 1d

To the Child Who Never Was

Dear little one,
I wish I could tell you who you were meant to be,
but I never had the chance to meet you.
You were supposed to laugh without hesitation,
to dance barefoot in the grass,
to wake up without the weight of the world
pressed against your chest.

You were supposed to dream
without fearing the fall,
to believe in love
without flinching at its touch.
You should have known kindness
without conditions,
safety without apologies,
home without war.

But they took you from me
before you ever had a chance to breathe.
They stole your voice
and left me with the echoes,
turned your soft hands into fists,
your open heart into armor.

I search for you in the quiet,
in the spaces between my ribs,
but all I find are ghosts—
memories that were never made,
a life that was never lived.

I carry you still,
even in the ruins,
even in the spaces where childhood should have been.
And if I could,
I would build you a home in my arms,
rock you to sleep with a lullaby
you were never sung.

I cannot bring you back,
but I can promise this:
I will live for us both.
I will find the softness the world denied you,
and I will whisper your name
into the wind—
so you know you were never forgotten.

This is a letter to the child I never got to be—the version of me who should have known love without conditions, safety without fear, and joy without pain. This is for them, for the life they never had.

#innocence #hope #longing

Maryann I 1d

Your Game

You think your words are silver threads,
Spinning lies and feeding your dread.
A smile so sweet, a voice so kind,
But I’ve seen the darkness in your mind.

You wear the mask of endless charm,
To lure and trap, to do no harm.
You crave control, you seek the stage,
A puppet master in your cage.

You play the part, you act the friend,
But all you seek is your own end.
A tale of pain, a sad disguise,
But I know the truth behind your eyes.

Your tactics tried, your charm rehearsed,
But I’ve seen the curse you’ve placed on words.
You live to feed your empty pride,
To pull the strings and twist the tide.

You cannot fool me with your game,
Your broken acts, your false acclaim.
I see you, I know your move,
And no, I will not fall for you.

So try again, play out your scheme,
But know this truth: you’re not my dream.
Your reach is weak, your touch will break,
For you can never own my fate.

#narcissist #manipulation #confrontation #directed

Maryann I 1d

Wilted Petals

They tell him he is not a flower,
not soft, not meant to sway.
A man must stand like oak and iron,
unbending in the storm’s display.

But even mountains crack with time,
and rivers carve through stone.
Still, he tucks his petals inward,
pretending he is made of bone.

He’s taught that thorns are armor,
that roots must never show,
that to bloom is to be broken,
that to weep is to let go.

But flowers starved of rain will wither,
left to shrivel in the heat.
And men, too, will turn to silence,
fearing softness makes them weak.

So let them bloom, let them bend,
let them speak their pain in sight.
For a flower wilts not from the wind,
but from the absence of its light.

This poem explores the delicate nature of emotions and challenges the societal expectation that men must be unyielding and stoic. The flower metaphor represents both the vulnerability and strength inherent in all people, suggesting that emotions, like flowers, need space to grow and thrive. Toxic masculinity, however, teaches men to hide their feelings, to suppress their emotional needs, and to adopt a rigid, unbending exterior.

#toxicmasculinity #vulnerability #expression #softness #defiance