When I reach for free time
as an adult,
and quickly find it taken,

I remember that ambrosia
is only for the gods,
and mortals beware,

do not interfere
in anything
made for the gods.

what better day than today--

I can't sleep and I can't
stand the daisy bushes at dusk with their
orange glaring eyes glaring
at my fingers turned robot joints back when
they used to--

feel differently
and I

swear I
haven't changed so much and to
prove it I'm trying to dig the eternity out of
algae green and deep walnut irises stranger
and stranger with spoon shovels made of
shallow questions and polite interest without
getting so bored or
wishing I was--

what better day than today to die

I've tied the limbs of my
spirits and monsters alike into knots and
dizzied them in labyrinths of my own muddied judgment
paved with crushed clocks and compass needles and
they are all so far gone, I am
untethered--

even far from my dear music and poetry--

my soul is already split like colored mosaic glass, each of
a thousand fragments not just belonging but
borne out of some piece of art that will long outlive me, so
anyone that minded could
easily piece me back together in death

how I wish that death were the end,
the end, and not a passing over into
some other unknown rumored to outlast everything,
what more terrifying than that and if
I believed there were a true end I might have sought it
much sooner--

what is left for me to do but
papier-mache my body with my old poetry like a
sarcophagus absorbing the things I
trusted to hold me so much closer

I know you don’t forget me,
Don’t view my posts nor my moms.
But I did have fun Ashlee,
You helped me grow strong.

Your marriage goes well?
I’d do anything to chat.
Besides picking up my cell,
And calling you back.

Should have went out to lunch,
Two years ago,
But I thought we had much more
Time before you’d go.

Military housing,
Did you get to bring the cat?
Do you remember the kitten?
His small fur pattern hat?

You did my math,
While I did your reading.
Now we need help in those subjects,
Do the soldiers have meetings?

I’ll call you again,
Probably text before I do.
I can’t promise you when,
But I want it to be soon.

Sacrifices
Painful, yet worthy.
Exist in every aspect of life.
As a child,
some fun if health doesn't permit.
As a teenager,
sacrificing extracurriculars to fulfill parents' expectations.
As an adult,
leaving passions to drown in a stressful job in order to lift responsibilities.
As a partner,
sacrificing one’s own wishes to prioritize partner's likes and dislikes.
As a parent,
keeping personal luxuries aside to uplift children happily.
Sacrifices—
even though seem tough to do,
give a sense of calm and content after seeing later results.

You started to feel like a fever dream—
the chills, the sweat didn’t leave me.
I tried to revive us.

We did walk to school holding hands,
our long braids filled with
stories of our worlds.

I could not face you.
The equal footing disappeared
once the pretty boy liked you over me.
It grew into the ocean
when another boy became your world.

I tried to let go,
be graceful,
be accepting—
but the poison crept in.
The ivy grew all over me, and I let it.
This felt good and real.

Time washed us by—
days into years.
We aren’t the same anymore.

You are losing hair.
I am losing sleep.
Thanks for waving the white flag.

We can win again!

Hello, I'm Dawnevyn River (he/they), a transmasculine poet living in a country carved from stories not of its own, where the light falls long and thoughts run deep. My work is rooted in the raw terrain of trauma, mental illness, neurodivergence, queer identity, and the quiet astonishment of simply being alive.

I began sharing my poetry on Hello Poetry in 2014, a teenager spilling truth into open space. Those early pieces, now archived, were a lifeline then. Today, I return with a steadier hand and a deeper voice - writing that reflects the growth, grief, and grace of adulthood.

These poems are both survival tools and love letters to the ordinary. I invite you to walk with me through the small, sacred moments we often overlook, and to find, together, a kind of beauty in the everyday.

Kids outside, you’re only 5
You were so young, time spent
inside, no youth
you said it does something to you.

You chased love, 3 blocks,
but she left, your first heartbreak.

Years Down the road,
love reintroduces himself,
you give nurturing love,
2 beautiful kids, repaid in black & blue.

He fractures & bruises, and you lie.
Swallow your pride.
Two years of drafting silence but then you speak.
Away you Get.

But life detest you again,
every chance it gets.
He just turned 18, crash, a wreck,
He didn’t even get a chance, a mother’s son.

Then again in Cold Blood, the world
took the other one, 7 times in back he shot.
The daughter, also a mother, could she even fight back.
What were there final thoughts ? She’ll never know.

You’ve taken both from this world, back to raising someone on my own again.
No Job, making ends meet. Sirens Blare, but not in defeat.

You deserve peace I say.
A Happy Ending, she’ll soundly sleep.

when you trim your ***** and your mustache with the same pair of scissors
when you hand over your entire paycheck to the bartender of doom and glee
when you write a bounced check at the grocery store
when you sleep with a girl who isn’t clean
when you’re young, lost, broken and poor
when your childhood runs hard and your luck runs out
when your best friend is dead and your other friend is ******* your girl
when your dog sleeps in the afternoon and dreams of the neighborhood *****
when your nutrients gets replaced with Xanax bars over the one who just left
when your tired eyes meet the brick & mortar of strenuous labor
when the smile is so fake that it appears genuine
when you go all in on someone you weren’t 100% sure of
when you wait on bleeding knees for the unreliable god
when you bet on the boxer that crashed to the canvas
when the interest is high and the banks are closed and the creditors don’t care about grace periods
when you understand very little and you expel a whole lot
when the cord of anxiety strangles your very essence
when you turn out to be just as everyone expected

don’t worry

it’ll all turn around

and find you again

someway

somehow.

***** is what you are
***** is grunge under the nails
How your gritty tales told pail
In comparison to your dingy secrets
Infectious with your soiled lies
Excrement from bitter lips
Words that never did or ever will mean ****,
Exit from your waste-filled ships.

***** is what you are,
In this way, toxic barrels rot the frogs
Or how you irradiated touch melts minds,
A walking cancer cell, and everything you say is terminal
You’re what turtles suffer, plastic nooses
To hang your head upon loose laurels kept,
***** is all that you are.

***** is what you are,
It’s diesel exhaust exhausting to deal with you
Laborious and full of smog
All for the hope you could find an in
And in the end, gaslight me again.

***** is what you are,
Like toxic markers, or lead paint
And the more you color, the more I’m unimpressed
You are sadness incarnate,
You have bad habits by definition,
And the more you try to get close
I remind myself why I fly further away.

***** is what you are.

Where is the side of me that faked tears but never a smile?
Where is the side of me that lied about having a fever instead of hiding it?
Where is the side of me that poured out every problem instead of carrying them alone?
Where is the side of me that blamed home food instead of craving it?
Where is the side of me that spoke without fear instead of swallowing my words?
Where is the side of me that fought instead of walking away in silence?
Where is the side of me that ran into crowds instead of seeking solitude?
Where is the side of me that answered endless questions instead of questioning my own existence?
Where is the side of me that cried over the smallest things instead of smiling through the pain?


Somewhere along the way, I lost that childhood.
Somewhere, I let its innocence slip through my fingers.
Somewhere, I turned my dreams to ashes and let the Ganga carry them away.
Somewhere, I buried my laughter beneath the weight of expectations.
Somewhere, carefree days turned into sleepless nights.
Somewhere, age and responsibility silenced the child within.
A carefree childhood faded,and a responsible adulthood took its place.
Yet, in the quiet corners of my heart ,that child still knocks, still whispers, still waits...

Hoping, one day, I will open the door again.

But how can I tell that the door will never open again?
How can I tell that the path has closed
forever?
How can I tell that it all came to an end long ago?