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you saw the empty glass
just before i left.
the way you came down on me
still rattles in my chest.

you were way too harsh.
your words lodged in me
for years.
because you were
a drinking buddy.
i didn’t need you
to hold a mirror up to me.

“i know by heart,” you said,
“that glass will be followed
by another.
isn’t that right?

so can you promise me
when you get home
you won’t drink?
because tomorrow,
i will know.
you know i will.
and i’ll never trust you again.
if you lie to me.”

i didn’t drink that night.
not because i didn’t want to.
but out of anger.
because you were right.

sometimes, years later,
your voice still follows me.
you’re part of the past,
and it still haunts me.

i could do
with a round of tough love.
another of your harsh truths.
because i keep fighting these battles,
and all i do is lose.
this one is about someone caring so much, they weren’t afraid to break the silence with the truth.
August 13, 2025
i haven’t had therapy in weeks.
he’s been on holiday,
i’ve been working.
too much.

the days stack up like
empty dishes by the sink.
sometimes it’s so bad,
i have to dig my nails
into my own skin
to stop myself
from walking away.

but then i think of you —
how you are the only thing
that gets me through the day.
i could not turn my back.
your name is the rope
i wrap around my wrist,
and stay.
this one is about having that one person at work who always comes through for you, no matter what the day looks like.
August 13, 2025
Mira 11h
{friends are like roses
some of them, pretty petals)
(others are the thorns

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my first haiku!!⊱✿⊰
First came the pioneer
Who’s first glance preceded
Any other aspect of hers
She thought was needed
So she came short
Of wit and strength
Which she had, but had left
And put her life at arm’s length

Next came the savant
Who’s past bore her soul
Her lion’s den rose above
And claimed her whole
She could all but escape
The temor it left
Which made the trail
That lay her to rest

Third came the loyalist
Dismissed as an outcast
Yet she found a place
Amongst the other Three fast
But it wasn’t enough
To keep up
So her way was made crawling
Fruitfully but deficiently

Last came the dreamer
Denominated rash yet elegiac
She wasn’t the cub expected
For they were frankly a fallback
Born to diligence and discipline
But turned to hiraeth and lies
She sought out the moon
The stars, the seas and the sky
She took her time to raise her flesh
And examine stories beneath
Of what could’ve been, what could be
If only she escaped the heath
That was what the Four planned to do
Yet outside came out only Two
And the One who best survived
Was the one who didn’t let her life
Deprive her of what could’ve been
Power erupting from her skin
She wrapped a hand around it’s wrist
And let go.
It took the fury of years
Blood, sweat and tears
To escape the heath
And the years left that lay beneath
If she weren’t to leave
If she were to grieve
The loss of her future history
And find defeat in victory
Then would her flame still flicker?
My doubt gets thicker
She isn’t a poet, merely a girl
Unable to find her place in that world
And as she recalled a wise woman saying
‘There’s escape in escaping’
You need to let go
So what if people judge you?
As my friend said,
you need to start living
But how
do I do that?
BEEZEE 3d
It will not matter
whether we tend
the green stem of her care
or lose her hand in the dark.

The eternal mother moves among us—
in friends, in kin,
in any soul who shelters another.

All who hold her spirit
become one’s mother.
I will mother myself,
I will mother a friend.

Mother-Less
is Mother still.
Adri 4d
I have a pretty healthy mind

My friends...
Not so much

And it is kinda weird

Like...

Wdym you don't just know you're beautiful?

Wdym you have to remind yourself of that fact everyday, hour, minute, and second?

Wdym that sometimes you feel that maybe it'd be better just to end it all?

Wdym that in order to feel relieved inside...
You have to hurt outside?

What do you mean that you are not of worth?

I just wish that I could let you have my love

I just wish that you could see yourself from my side

I just wish you had a Healthy Mind.
Soph Aug 4
I‘m not a person,
I‘m a place.
Splitting paint,
shattered glass,
creeking
with every step you take.

They‘re scared of my past,
afraid of the ghosts I can’t let go.
Barely anyone comes to visit,
and if they do,
it’s only once
before they leave again.

Some people come
just to break me even more.
Another shattered window,
another broken door,
taking things
without asking before.

I‘m a haunted house,
of course no one stays,
no one comes prepared
for the ghosts that haunt me,
and how dark it can be.
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