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sadguy 1d
I once held fire in trembling hands
A name that bloomed like spring in sand
Now silence sings where songs had grown
And I walk this world alone

Your face once clear in twilight's grace
Is lost in fog I can't replace
You visit still in dreams I keep
A whisper drowned in restless sleep

I do not speak the reason why
But something shattered in July
The sun fell cold the moon turned pale
And love became a lonesome tale

I try to live I try to be
A man unchained from memory
But every street I wander through
Still echoes soft with thoughts of you

Your laughter’s ghost it haunts the air
But I forget the way you stare
Is this how hearts begin to mend
By letting go of how it ends

I do not hate I cannot blame
But tears still rise when I hear your name
I’m moving on it hurts it's slow
And yet I think you’d want it so

So if you pass me in a crowd
Don’t stop don’t speak don’t say it loud
Just know the love I could not show
Still walks beside me as I go
sadguy 5d
He walks in rooms like rising light
But darkness drips behind his eyes
The world applauds his steady flight
Yet every breath he takes is lies

No book unfolds beneath his hand
Each page a ghost unread unknown
He stares into a dreaming land
But all the thoughts he sows unsown

They say how bright his laughter rings
But none hear the silence it conceals
A hollow bird with painted wings
He ***** he flies yet never feels

He builds a temple of false routine
Mocks his dreams with half done clay
To others he is the perfect scene
To himself a soul in slow decay

And he says tomorrow I will start
But tomorrows fade like fragile mist
Each promise written in his heart
Unread unheard and still dismissed

The crowd cheers loud for what they see
Not knowing they praise a phantom shell
He longs for love for clarity
But lives alone inside his hell

A mask of smiles a practiced face
He laughs in ways he is learned to fake
In truth he’s running a losing race
The world claps He breaks

So hear this truth from tenfold pen
Hes not alone this broken man
If you read the silence within men
You'd find yourself in that same span
sadguy Jul 21
I missed your hand and still moved on
No storm could keep the sunrise gone
Some dreams, once false, dissolve with grace
Not every loss deserves a place

If love can bloom and still let go
Then let this breath rise, soft and slow
No flame beside me, yet I shine
A song remade in notes of mine

The mirror shows a clearer face
No longer veiled in your embrace
The ocean swells, but I now swim
Not broken, just rebuilt from within

This heart, once cracked in every beat
Now walks with rhythm, not retreat
Its silence grew a wiser sound
A pulse that keeps to higher ground

They told me, “Pain may weigh like stone”
But still I stood, I’ve grown, alone
Your dusk was deep—but I found skies
Where stars aren’t shaped by others’ eyes

No grief can chain what’s meant to rise
This river flows. I choose the tide.
sadguy Jul 21
I never touched your hand in time
Yet you stirred a storm within
Why awaken a dream so blind
If it was never meant to begin?

If love could breathe without your name
Then why does this breath still sting?
This life, unlived beside your flame
Feels like a song I failed to sing

No mirror holds what you erased
A face grown dim in beauty’s grace
No ocean aches the way I do
Too full to move, yet cut in two

This heart, once loud in every beat
Now spills no sorrow, sings defeat
Its silence chants your vanishing trace
The price I pay, the hollowed space

They told me, “Love knows no precise weight,”
But what of me, who bends and breaks
Your eyes were dusk, I drowned in them
Perhaps your grief was mine to take

Perhaps this grief was home to me
A river frozen willingly.
sadguy Jul 8
He wakes in the static
of a nameless hotel room.
The dream clings
not a ghost, but a wet shirt.
Last night’s phone call still bleeding
in the mirror.


He walks like silence walks,
heavy with something
he hasn’t spoken in years.
His fingers tremble
as if each nail were a tiny antenna
trying to find her frequency.


Down the stairs
his breath is graffiti
on the glass of the revolving door.
The city hisses like a snake
that remembers him from another life.
He is a boy again,
trying not to cry in public.


There is a man with a payphone stall
just off the corner he trades coins
for connection.
Seventeen bucks a call
is the going rate for hope.


But he has none.
Only the ache of a thousand
could have beens
stacked like unread postcards
in his chest.
She is at the airport.
She is not coming back.


He kneels beside a beggar
asks him for mercy.
The beggar laughs like a church
with a broken bell.
You want a piece of me?
Here take the only one left.


The beggar’s hand hesitates,
but then it opens
like an old book.
Inside:
A breath.
A dollar.
A quiet dying star.


The call costs seventeen bucks.
And the man,
the man who hadn’t spoken to God in years,
whispers her name into a plastic mouthpiece
as if it were prayer.
He forgets the world owes no grace.


She says goodbye in another language.
He doesn’t understand,
but the dial tone
says enough.
The beggar watches him
like a soldier watches a falling bird.


When it ends,
he doesn’t cry.
He counts the silence
as it climbs his throat.
The beggar says nothing
only turns his palms up
as if asking the morning
what mercy costs these days.
sadguy Jul 2
I have seen men stay—
not because the world asked,
but because their promises whispered louder than fate.

They kneel by the grave of trust,
watering it with silence,
torn hands, and undone dreams.

Loyalty,
is not medals, not songs—
but the quiet refusal to leave
when everything burns.

He loved her
like broken glass holds light—
sharp, trembling, dangerous
but never letting go.

His tears
do not fall where eyes can see;
they bleed into stone,
into night,
into fists pressed hard to bone.

The world laughed.
She left.
He stayed.
Like an old tree refusing to unroot
even when the wind ripped off its leaves.

Sometimes,
pain is just another name for loyalty—
sometimes,
love forgets to be kind
but the loyal never forget to stay.

They curse him—
"You fool."
He whispers back—
"She was worth the ruin."

The ache,
the ache grows ribs inside him,
a second skeleton made of memory,
and each breath—
a war between holding on
and letting go.

And yet he stands,
storm-eyed, sunburned, spine bent not by fear,
but the weight of a vow
that no longer speaks back.

Because loyalty is not romantic.
It is tragic.
It is noble.
It is madness.
And still—
it is love.
sadguy Jul 2
He sat on a jagged pine throne
Not crowned in gold, but by salt and brine
And the sea stretched far and unkind
Each tide a tick that marked the time

He waited long with hollow eyes
For the one who calmed the skies.
The waves would come the waves would go
Each swell a whisper she won't show

And hope was a terrible tender guest
A swell breathed in and made could to rest
His only friend, he called the tide
They played until the bones would bend

The tide became the darling, the storm Became loud
And enveloped him in seafoam's shroud
Kissed his feet, climbed to his knees
Etched her name across his grief

Still he fought through drift and year
Through drowned-out suns and vanished fear
Every tide that ticked was another scar
Another rib beneath the stars

And now he sits, with nothing left
His hands now bone, held only time's remains
A skeleton with heart long gone
And still he waits he lingers on

For if she came, the world would freeze
The wind, hush the waves ease
That single gaze, a breath, a name
And time itself would catch fire In her name

But she never came...
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