The Poems I Wasn’t Meant to Read

I found the page tucked in a book,
Its fold too neat, like care it took.
A poem, simple—sharp and cold,
A story inked but never told.

“I never loved him,” the first line read,
And something in me quietly bled.
Not anger, not a bitter tone—
Just a truth that stood there, all alone.

No fire, no fight—just frozen air,
A silence shaped like no one there.
Not a trace of me inside the frame,
Not even shadow tied to name.

Elsewhere, a hidden file—another note,
One more poem that she wrote.
A man unknown, his presence far,
Drawn in lines too bold, too clear.

A laugh, a touch, a night of stars,
A place where nothing broke or scarred.
“So much between us left unsaid,”
That final line just rang and bled.

And it was then I felt the sting—
Not just of him, but everything.
The weight of all we never voiced,
Of moments passed, of silent choice.

The dreams we named but never chased,
The goals that time and fear erased.
The plans we whispered half-awake,
Too fragile for the light to take.

The things we needed, never asked,
Desires buried, faces masked.
The nights we held but didn’t feel,
The love we wanted to be real.

And maybe that’s the cruelest cut—
Not lies, not lust, not breaking trust—
But words we held and never freed,
And poems I was never meant to read.

© 2025 Shawn Oen. All rights reserved.

I Didn’t Mean To

I didn’t mean to dim your light,
To turn our mornings into night.
The shadows followed me back home—
From places I had walked alone.

The war is over, they all said,
But not the noise inside my head.
The drills, the dread, the sharp commands—
Still echo loud in quiet lands.

You held me when I couldn’t speak,
When sleep was shallow, dreams were bleak.
I didn’t know how deep you’d bend,
To be a lover and a friend.

I didn’t mean to build a wall,
To vanish when you’d start to call.
I thought that strength was staying still,
But strength, I’ve learned, is choosing will.

You saw the fractures in my chest,
Still pressed your hand and called it blessed.
You never asked me to forget—
Just not to live inside regret.

And now, with you, I see a door—
A space where pain can hurt no more.
Not by pretending it’s not real,
But by the grace of how we heal.

So take my hand, if you’ll still stay,
And walk beside me, not away.
I won’t get better in a breath—
But love, with you, I fight back death.

No perfect words, no flawless grace—
Just shared resolve in this small space.
I never meant to make you ache—
But now I know, we both can break…
And still come back, for each other’s sake.

© 2025 Shawn Oen. All rights reserved.

Locked Rooms

You lie beside me every night,
But dream alone, beyond my sight.
Your eyes drift off to places deep,
While I stay waking in the sleep.

You speak of work, of plans, the day,
But never what you’d throw away.
Not what you long for, fear, or miss—
Just surface talk, no hidden wish.

I ask, you nod, then change the thread,
As if your dreams were something dead.
A vault you never want to share,
A soul too tangled to lay bare.

I don’t need answers tied in bows,
Or every thought you’ve ever known.
I just want in—just one small key—
To feel your fire burning free.

But walls are what you offer back,
And silence fills the growing crack.
How strange to love, and still not know
The places that your heart won’t go.

I can’t hold dreams you never speak,
Or heal the parts you will not seek.
I’m not a ghost, I’m not a guess—
I’m here, but aching nonetheless.

So tell me where your stars are set,
What haunts your nights with quiet debt.
I want to love you, fully true—
But I can’t reach the locked-up you.

© 2025 Shawn Oen. All rights reserved.

Hands That Wait

You carry weight with silent pride,
A storm you never let outside.
I see it press against your spine,
But every offer, you decline.

“I’m fine,” you say, with furrowed brow,
As if that’s all you will allow.
You wear the world like armor tight,
Then wonder why you lose the fight.

I reach for you with open hands,
But you’ve built walls from shifting sands.
I see you drown and will not swim,
Afraid that help admits you’re dim.

But strength is not a solo act,
It’s in the pause, the soft impact
Of letting someone in the dark
Hold even just the smallest part.

You mow the grass, the dog, the day—
But not the cracks that won’t obey.
And I can’t fix what you won’t share,
Can’t love the weight if you’re not there.

I’m here, still here, with hands outstretched,
My care not soft, not vague, not fetched.
But love can’t break through what you cage—
And silence slowly turns to rage.

So tell me where the hurt begins.
Let me help you hold the pins.
We lose the fight when we don’t see—
That even strong hearts bend to breathe.

© 2025 Shawn Oen. All rights reserved.

Not Your Students

In classrooms cold where chalk once sang, A silence fell that bruised, then rang—Not with words, but with the stare, The kind that strips you standing there.

You raised your hand, a hopeful reach,
But hope was not what they would teach. Instead, a smirk, a cutting tone—
You left that room more skin than bone.

Then home, where love should be a balm, became a storm disguised as calm.
A voice that picked at every seam,
Till you forgot your right to dream.

“You call that clean?” “You think that’s smart?” “I’ll do it myself” was the remark. Each word a dagger masked as art. Too loud, too soft, too much, too thin— No place outside, no peace within.

Their love was weighed in harsh critique, A scorecard life, a twisted streak. You shrank to fit their brittle mold, While they stood proud, and you grew cold.

And still you moved through every day,
A ghost in roles you couldn’t play.
The teacher, spouse—they wore their masks—While you were buried under tasks.

But here you are, still breathing deep,
Though night has stolen countless sleep.
Your truth is not a whispered lie—It grows each time you dare to cry.

One day, the mirrors will not lie,
And you will see the reason why
The ones who break us hide their shame— Because you carry all their flame.

Let it burn, and light your name.

© 2025 Shawn Oen. All rights reserved.

My body is a patchwork of all the times I’ve sewn myself back together.
You came along with a seam ripper, needles, and an old sewing machine.
I thought you would use them to gently return me to my original design.
I thought you would make me whole again, as a sort of seamstress savior.
But you didn’t have those supplies prepared to mend me or even yourself.
Even when I found out the truth, I trusted you to fix my tattered fabric.
You cinched and pinned me into a shape I didn’t recognize anymore.
You ripped out my stitches, and started sewing a new jacket for your size.
When I told you it hurt, you didn’t seem to care. You ignored my pleas.
When I’d finally had enough, I ran from your cruel redesign of my identity.
My new shape wasn’t designed to run, an intentional choice on your part.
You came and found me stumbling in the cold, and took me back home.
I escaped your carefully made sewing room again and again, only to return.
I took me months to cut the long trail of threads leading you straight to me.
With the last thread snipped, I escaped for the final time. I was finally free.
But I was not the same quilt as when I met you. I was a quilted jacket now.
I was only meant to keep someone warm. Only meant to keep you warm.
Now that I was on my own, I thought I needed to find another wearer.
I tried finding someone else to use the coat that you had turned me into.
But none of them fit right because you tailored me to your measurements.
Making a new me to suit you was never even more than a hobby to you.
The task of remaking my entire identity back into a quilt falls on me now.
I dated you to fix my mismatched patches only to learn I must fix myself.
All that pain. All that trauma and abuse. And I still don’t know how to sew.

I came across
A stray
Snarling dog
About 6 years ago
While I was living in an abusive home
Matted and scared

It was battered and bruised
And so was I

I fed the dog everything I would catch
Gave it my trust
And my loyalty
While it was visiting other people
Still coming running to me
As if it were starving

A month later I left my home
Finally out but now on my own
And nowhere to go
I left the ravaging beast
That owned me
Moved into the snarling dogs den
Where it kept me isolated
And used
Never free to express myself for fear of its bark
But the dog never bit so I forgave it
For it was bruised and hurt
So I tended to its wounds
As I licked them clean

Seven months later I learned the dog was being fed by other people
All of my hunting was for nothing
I didn't hurt the dog
Just hissed and yowled and scratched myself
Because the dog didn't deserve that
It was just hungry
You can't help hunger
So I moved us somwhere where the yards had fences so that the dog couldn't feed from others

Two more months later the dog had dug a hole under them
I found it and broke down again
All while filling the hole in with all the strength I could find in my small paws

The dog learned how to jump the fence
So I moved us somewhere where they were taller
And finally he was my dog
Even tho he still hungered for food from others
But my loyalty no longer lied with him
So I'd leave the dog alone in it's den
Well fed while I'd go out to hunt for others

After awhile I forgave his hunger
And gave in to those puppy dog eyes
Gave him my loyalty once more
Stayed in the den
But then a wolf moved in
And drove me out

I moved into a house again but was still loyal to the dog
To it's den
Until the dog snarled and barked
Until I was scared away from my loyalty
As it drove me away

The dog would now just roam my home
And visit here and there
Presenting itself as my therapy
As it wrapped is body around me
And let me use its fur for warmth
Being at my service
Grooming my fur
Leaving it clean
Trimming my claws
Leaving them cared for
My dog

Years later the dog still barked
Snarled
Growled
But it still never bit
So I always forgave it
I gave it my loyalty again
I let the dog into my home for a few days at a time
Before it went back to it's den

I lost my memory
No longer knew the dog
But the dog said I was loyal to him
And he was loyal
My dog
But then I found out that the dog had another home that he'd visit
My dog wasn't my dog
So I tried to leave it all
Because nothing is mine
Nothing is for me

The dog came crawling back
Whimpering and howling
Giving me its puppy dog eyes
So I let it be at my service again
Let it be my therapy dog again
The dog cleaned my fur
Trimmed my claws

Time flies by and the dog starts snarling
Growling
Teeth bared
Back arched
Everytime I'm sad or hurt
It can't be my therapy dog anymore
But I still beg it for comfort
I still try to nuzzle up to its fur
Hoping I can calm the anger within its body
With mine

But I am no longer this dogs cat
I am no longer loyal
And I don't care for its loyalty
I only care that it doesn't prey on another
So I obsess over keeping that dog mine
Keeping it away from another stray

I prowl around trying to find other homes
Until I do find one
This home is nice
But I only visit him sometimes
Wary of being his pet

The dog grows distant
Hiding away in the dark corners of our home
The dog is no longer there for me
Emotionally or physically
It doesn't curl itself around me or groom my fur
It doesn't lick my head when it's lowered
Or trim my claws when they grow too long
It only snarles
Barks
Bares its teeth
And finally it

BITES

The dog bit me
But the bite didn't draw blood
So I hiss and I swat
I curl up in a corner
And I keep the site of the bite away from my potential new owner
But that owner didn't want me
I'm not the right cat
I'm not the right temperament or personality that he was looking for so he closes his doors

I let the dog come back into our home
It must've been an accident
Because the wound
Didn't
Draw
Blood

One of my old owners comes back
The dog is still distant
Still snarling
And growling
So I hiss
And yowl back

The dog begins to calm back down
But it is still not my dog
I don't want it to be my dog
My previous owner only wants a cat and not a dog
And I'd like to be his pet again
So I need to leave the dog back in the den

The dog still cares for me
But only physically
All is well
And visiting my old owners home
Has me happy

But then
The dog
Bites me
Draws blood
Leaves a gaping wound
In my beautiful fur coat
My fur was stained red
And I was bleeding out dead
So I dragged myself to my old owners home
And he opened the door for me

The dog still wants me back
He couldn't fulfill his hunger
So he took his fill
Right out of me
Yet he still hungers further
Still howls and whimpers
Still tries to fool me with his puppy dog eyes
But I can now see through the lies
And everytime I look down I still see the wound that was left
In my beautiful fur coat
I can't get that wound clean
So I make sure that the dog cannot get to me

I’m putting on my perfume
as you enter the bathroom
“Smells like cancer,”
was your answer

Wish I’d been fearless
against your meanness
instead of hurt and speechless

“I never hit you”
That’s true
That’s not what you do

Words, not fists, you use
to lie,
to confuse
to strike
and abuse
Words don’t leave a bruise

“*****” is not my name
“****,” more of the same
But you have no shame
“Just a fight,” you claim

“You’re just sensitive”
You told me
And I accept that excuse
for years of emotional abuse

I stay
until one day
I’m brushing my teeth
as our son enters the bathroom,
“Why is dad always mean to you?”
Those words became the straw
that broke the camel’s back

And now me and my perfume
are never coming back


© 2025 Joan Zaruba. All rights reserved.

choose your mirrors carefully

what those mirrors reflect will cling to you like perfume
tint your vision like sunglasses

don’t let a broken mirror trick you into thinking you, too, are broken

look carefully
look long
look with eyes wide open

a mirror will always reveal it’s true nature in times of stress

Be vigilant!

here’s the secret
when you realize the ugliness
is a reflection of the broken mirror
not you
you can walk away

walk away
into the light
into the freedom

walk into the loving embrace of those who show you your true self

I know
because I did

© 2025 Joan Zaruba. All rights reserved.