#confessionalwriting - Hello Poetry

Life begins mid-scene, no script in my hands, just a trembling voice and the weight of the spotlight. I stumble through lines I never agreed to speak, yet each word lands as if carved in stone. How cruel, this urgency— to shape myself in seconds, to wear a costume of flesh without knowing the story. Still, the stage keeps turning, stars lit above my head, and the only truth I carry: every flaw is part of the play.

0

Aug 19, 2025

Aug 19, 2025 at 3:05 PM UTC

girlinflames

First Night, No Rehearsal

Life begins mid-scene, no script in my hands, just a trembling voice and the weight of the spotlight. I stumble through lines I never agreed to speak, yet each word lands as if carved in stone. How cruel, this urgency— to shape myself in seconds, to wear a costume of flesh without knowing the story. Still, the stage keeps turning, stars lit above my head, and the only truth I carry: every flaw is part of the play.

16

They called us weak, but we returned brighter— diamonds no longer hidden, thunder no longer hushed. I walk into the storm, shoulders heavy, yet my spirit unyielding. The world may strike, but I carry a kingdom in my veins. Every step forward is a promise kept: we will reach the home beyond the river.

0

Aug 20, 2025

Aug 20, 2025 at 2:51 PM UTC

girlinflames

Crowned in Fire

They called us weak, but we returned brighter— diamonds no longer hidden, thunder no longer hushed. I walk into the storm, shoulders heavy, yet my spirit unyielding. The world may strike, but I carry a kingdom in my veins. Every step forward is a promise kept: we will reach the home beyond the river.

13

Your eyes say forever, your silence says fleeting. You chain me with your touch, yet leave me doubting what name to give this fever. I would surrender— life, body, soul— if this were love. But if it is only desire, then I am nothing more than a flame you’ll let burn out. Still, I stay, hoping you’ll call it love.

0

Aug 19, 2025

Aug 19, 2025 at 1:24 PM UTC

girlinflames

The Game We Play

Your eyes say forever, your silence says fleeting. You chain me with your touch, yet leave me doubting what name to give this fever. I would surrender— life, body, soul— if this were love. But if it is only desire, then I am nothing more than a flame you’ll let burn out. Still, I stay, hoping you’ll call it love.

13

Everything is too sugar-spine, salt-lipped, staticstitched and jitterglow. I can’t sit still without turning into a girl-shaped emergency. I keep my synonyms in jars— one for ache, one for almost, one for the word I made up that means I miss you so much I become a faucet. Language is a loose tooth. I tongue it until it bleeds metaphor. Call it poetry. Call it coping. Call it anything but what it is: me, peeling the world into vowels because I’m scared if I say what I mean, you’ll hear it. And then what? You’ll answer? You’ll echo? You’ll send a voice memo saying same and I’ll combust on the Q train like a well-read matchbook? God, I am so caption-core, pun-drunk, rhyme-accident-prone. I named my stomach pit afterthought. I named my wrists reminder. And I named you don’t. But I still say it every time I open my mouth to speak.

0

Apr 6, 2025

Apr 6, 2025 at 9:30 AM UTC

Kiernan515

Loose Tooth Language

Everything is too sugar-spine, salt-lipped, staticstitched and jitterglow. I can’t sit still without turning into a girl-shaped emergency. I keep my synonyms in jars— one for ache, one for almost, one for the word I made up that means I miss you so much I become a faucet. Language is a loose tooth. I tongue it until it bleeds metaphor. Call it poetry. Call it coping. Call it anything but what it is: me, peeling the world into vowels because I’m scared if I say what I mean, you’ll hear it. And then what? You’ll answer? You’ll echo? You’ll send a voice memo saying same and I’ll combust on the Q train like a well-read matchbook? God, I am so caption-core, pun-drunk, rhyme-accident-prone. I named my stomach pit afterthought. I named my wrists reminder. And I named you don’t. But I still say it every time I open my mouth to speak.

37