#emotionaltruths - Hello Poetry

Paid the full price For your pretty smile But you handed it back To me at half-price — Discounted love, Expensive expectations, One bad investment— My emotional debt.

0

Dec 8, 2025

Dec 8, 2025 at 4:00 PM UTC

OddOdysseyPoet

Emotional Debt

Paid the full price For your pretty smile But you handed it back To me at half-price — Discounted love, Expensive expectations, One bad investment— My emotional debt.

8

Life throws strange situations — When the heart feels heavy and craves someone to share, there’s no one. When stress takes over and you long for space, there’s no privacy.

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Nov 2, 2025

Nov 2, 2025 at 11:12 PM UTC

Arna_writes

Life’s Irony

Life throws strange situations — When the heart feels heavy and craves someone to share, there’s no one. When stress takes over and you long for space, there’s no privacy.

3

Don’t close your eyes on your dreams— you’ll lose sight of what you believe. The will of your work is measured by the work you’re willing to put in. As I live in a house of emotions, courting words to plead my case— bleeding through a see-through face. A quiet ache, always on trial. Knowing that the high-and-mighty Christian is the easiest target to bring down. Careers cut short— because in short, they never really knew the Lord. _And me?_ I live like the world’s greatest plot twist, my mind a tornado of thoughts— every turn unexpected, every breeze loud with questions. I’ve known the chill of a cold finger turned trigger. And felt the weight of a sharp tongue used as a silencer. As it’s easy to shoot yourself down the same way you shoot others—whether whispered or screamed out loud. But those who follow their worth, instead of searching for it in the crowd— those are the ones who stand out. __Aloud.__

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Jun 22, 2025

Jun 22, 2025 at 7:34 AM UTC

OddOdysseyPoet

Stand Out Aloud

Don’t close your eyes on your dreams— you’ll lose sight of what you believe. The will of your work is measured by the work you’re willing to put in. As I live in a house of emotions, courting words to plead my case— bleeding through a see-through face. A quiet ache, always on trial. Knowing that the high-and-mighty Christian is the easiest target to bring down. Careers cut short— because in short, they never really knew the Lord. _And me?_ I live like the world’s greatest plot twist, my mind a tornado of thoughts— every turn unexpected, every breeze loud with questions. I’ve known the chill of a cold finger turned trigger. And felt the weight of a sharp tongue used as a silencer. As it’s easy to shoot yourself down the same way you shoot others—whether whispered or screamed out loud. But those who follow their worth, instead of searching for it in the crowd— those are the ones who stand out. __Aloud.__

26

"Some things can only be carried as a responsibility throughout the life and can never be out of love."

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Jun 12, 2025

Jun 12, 2025 at 12:45 AM UTC

Arna_writes

Burdened by Duty, Not Love

"Some things can only be carried as a responsibility throughout the life and can never be out of love."

1

Only absence makes clear of the value of their presence.

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Jun 10, 2025

Jun 10, 2025 at 1:59 AM UTC

Arna_writes

The Weight of Absence

Only absence makes clear of the value of their presence.

1

“Some people come from nowhere and become family.”

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Jun 9, 2025

Jun 9, 2025 at 3:12 AM UTC

Arna_writes

Unwritten Ties

“Some people come from nowhere and become family.”

1

In the case of searching for the right man— is it really the _right_ man you're after, or just the _right now_ kind? The good-time lover. The temporary warmth. The one who shows up late, but still makes you hope it wasn’t too late. Never mind how long it takes— you’re just hoping you’ll be the one he takes. And if you start to care, truly care, will the weight of his past rest too heavy on your heart? Will it matter what he whispered into someone else’s ear before whispering into yours? Would you flinch knowing another ear was the trial run, and you’re just the version he’s learning to hold better, running into his arms. If his pride is armed like a gun— quick to shoot you down for standing too close— if he can’t even see your reflection, like a man wearing sunglasses indoors, would you still stay? Would your cheeks burn too bright with blush, to see the red flags waving in front of you? I’ve been blinded like that before…by charm. By timing. By love, that felt like truth but turned out to be dressed in denial.

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Jun 1, 2025

Jun 1, 2025 at 4:34 PM UTC

OddOdysseyPoet

Almost Love, Almost Warning

In the case of searching for the right man— is it really the _right_ man you're after, or just the _right now_ kind? The good-time lover. The temporary warmth. The one who shows up late, but still makes you hope it wasn’t too late. Never mind how long it takes— you’re just hoping you’ll be the one he takes. And if you start to care, truly care, will the weight of his past rest too heavy on your heart? Will it matter what he whispered into someone else’s ear before whispering into yours? Would you flinch knowing another ear was the trial run, and you’re just the version he’s learning to hold better, running into his arms. If his pride is armed like a gun— quick to shoot you down for standing too close— if he can’t even see your reflection, like a man wearing sunglasses indoors, would you still stay? Would your cheeks burn too bright with blush, to see the red flags waving in front of you? I’ve been blinded like that before…by charm. By timing. By love, that felt like truth but turned out to be dressed in denial.

17

In Warsaw’s heart, I step inside, Old memories rush, I can’t hide. "My love," she smiles, "I’m glad you're here," But I sigh, "I wish it were mine, my dear." The street outside, through glass so dim, I step out, the world feels grim. A crash - glass falls, she calls my name, "All’s well," I say, through bleeding pain. Her smile stays, my love remains.

0

Jan 15, 2025

Jan 15, 2025 at 8:05 AM UTC

Gabriel_Yale

Love's Quiet Return

In Warsaw’s heart, I step inside, Old memories rush, I can’t hide. "My love," she smiles, "I’m glad you're here," But I sigh, "I wish it were mine, my dear." The street outside, through glass so dim, I step out, the world feels grim. A crash - glass falls, she calls my name, "All’s well," I say, through bleeding pain. Her smile stays, my love remains.

9