be gentle with us
or don’t.
the stars still fall without permission.

but if you must touch us
touch slow.
for we are poets,
woven from breathless skies
and midnight trembles.

we feel too deeply,
like a violin played in a burning cathedral.
it is not a fault
only a fire
that never learned silence.

we do not fall in love,
we crash.
like galaxies meeting at full speed.
we love like we are dying,
we live like we are fading,
but in our minds
we fly barefoot across constellations.

our hearts
are black roses
growing among the red
soft to the gaze,
sharp to the soul.

you will not see it in our steps
or in the way we drink our tea.
but we are stained glass
already cracked
still catching the light.
and if you press too hard,
we will bleed beauty.

a poet is not always seen
sometimes just a smile in the corner
a sigh in the crowd.
we are everywhere,
soft and wild.

we tell stories
so the silence doesn’t win.
we wear masks
not to hide
but to protect the soft
from the cruel.

we notice the things you forget.
the chipped cup.
the tremble in your laugh.
the way sorrow dresses like strength.

and when we love
we love your entire world.
not just your name
but the way it sits in our lungs.
not just your eyes
but the way they flinch when the past whispers.

we adore the broken
shards glinting red
like stained mirrors
still daring to reflect stars.

we have kissed the devil
with trembling mouths,
left pieces of our soul
in places no light touched
and still returned.

we are fragile
yes
but not weak.
our hearts are ruins and gardens
at once.

so if you come close
come gently.

because when we hurt
we hurt in verses.
and when we fall
we don’t land.
we become.

so this is your only warning,
written in blood and ink:

be gentle with us.
or
watch the beauty bleed.

be gentle with us
please.
or don’t.
it is, after all,
your choice.

but know this

we, the poets,
are not built like the rest.
we are the black rose
among gardens of red
too rare,
too delicate,
too dangerous.

we feel with the whole sky.
we love like the sun
is seconds from setting.
we fall,
not softly
but all at once,
like shattered stars
scattering over wounds.

we live small
but think wide.
in our minds,
we are always flying
between memories
and make-believe,
between hurt
and hope.

don’t be deceived
by calm faces.
we wear masks
stitched from poems
and laughter
but behind them
we are velvet chaos,
quiet storms
with bleeding edges.

we, too,
have danced with devils
and kissed pain
like it was wine.
we return
from places
we cannot name
but we carry the fire
in our chests.

a poet could be anyone
walking beside you
a poet could be everyone
breaking silently

we collect fragments
glances,
murmurs,
empty chairs.
we see beauty
in undone hair,
in chipped teacups,
in rain that ruins plans.

and love
when we love,
we don’t stop at skin.
we fall into souls.
into scars.
into shadows.

and when we’re hurt,
we trust slower.
touch softer.
speak less.

so now you know
this heart,
it does not bruise
it blooms in pain.
this soul,
it does not break
it spills light
through its cracks.

so if you come near
and if you care
then please
be gentle with us.

i have all these strong emotions
they swirl around inside me
i shove them down
and put a cork in the bottle
the bottle that doesn't open
it's easier to ignore the anxiety
than deal with the difficult emotion
but the bottle can't hold anymore
of this feeling
the bottle is shaking and exploding open
the feelings are rushing back at me
i'm holding in the tears
my stomach is churning like
the emotional turmoil
i'm so worried
I can't do this anymore
it's all crashing down on me
the emotions rain down on me
like the glass shards from the bottle
the anxiety shoots through my veins
making my hands tremble
and my heart ache
and my mind spin

I have heard broken glass before
I have heard the cracks and snaps
Echoing in an empty room
A deafening accident
But not even that
Can be as loud as a broken heart
Shattered on purpose

A touch should be gentle, like whispers in the night,
But your words hit like storms, with no end in sight.
Each glance, a shove, though I never saw the hand,
Unnecessary roughness—what love could withstand?

The rules we once honored, now broken like glass,
Promises shattered as kindness slipped past.
It’s not just the anger, but the weight in the air,
The silence that lingers, pretending you care.

What was once soft has now grown so cold,
A heart left bruised from the grip you hold.
Unnecessary roughness in every embrace,
I flinch from the love that’s lost its grace.

Where warmth once flourished, now jagged and frayed,
A love meant to lift, but instead, it decayed.
And though I still stand, my heart shows the scars,
Unnecessary roughness has torn us apart.