#poeticconfession
I’ve hurt others, yes.
But the harshest words
the sharpest judgments
have always been mine.
I say to myself
what I would never say to anyone else.
I hunt my mistakes,
hold my failures like evidence,
measure myself in ways
I would never measure another.
And still,
I wonder if I’ll ever forgive
the only person I’ve been too cruel to:
myself.
Feb 4
Feb 4, 2026 at 9:28 AM UTC
I wish I could taste our love —
But the truth is, I bit my tongue;
From the words I was too scared to deliver.
I wish I could see our future —
Yet I get so blind in love;
Of what’s real and what I only hoped for.
I wish I could touch your smile —
But I’ve lost touch with my joy;
Holding something I no longer feel inside.
I wish I could hear your tears —
But the sea cries more than us;
Salt waters heavier than any confession.
I wish I could smell your intentions —
But love-sickness fogged my instincts;
Two hearts coughing through a failing truth.
But I get the sense that I'm still
Falling deeper in love with you.
_And that doesn't make any sense!_
Nov 28, 2025
Nov 28, 2025 at 4:46 PM UTC
I woke up today — everything felt the same. No, wait, maybe a little
different. I woke up today; different than I was yesterday. Tea in my
cup; I should be warm inside. The sky is clear, the air is kind; so why
does my smile still hide? For a child once aimed a slingshot at a bird
to feel the power of flight, by ending it. Somewhere between that
innocence and intent, my joy was caught mid-air — a fragile thing
that forgot how to land.
Now my smile fits in a framed exhibit, a masterpiece that only exists
when seen, felt. I sprinkle specks of luck like salt over the shoulder of
the horizon —the sun can rise as high as it pleases, but even on those
days, I’m still beneath where it began.
Urgency — no matter how twisted; it keeps me chewing on the taste
of worth. The pop of gums, the rub of rusty coins against my eyes
to imagine change — _literal, spiritual_, any kind will do. While the
struggle stays the same; we all buy into hope with whatever small
change we have left. And though I want to cry, to rage, to scream,
I know it won’t rewrite the day.
So I swallow the silence, tie it to my soul with the morning,
and push through — one more day, one more try at different.
Oct 30, 2025
Oct 30, 2025 at 6:16 PM UTC
And what have I done, a heart on the floor, down for the count,
knocked out by one single flaw. Bathed in light, then a shower
of stars, my dawn breaking into tremors. Oh how she startled
my soul, and moved me like an earthquake—but I should have
known, every quake leaves cracks behind.
And so I drained these tears into a teacup, she smelled of coffee—
a buzz I thought I could hold onto, but a high that would crash.
Still it was more than a crush, but still it crushed me, in her
absence.
And it's a chest searching for her heart, it was that treasure to be
in love. Her crystal tears pierced like glass, diamond skin shining
against the night. I kissed her softly like petals once— a flower
crying toward the sun, wings stretching, fragile, _open_.
And she never sinned against me, but I sinned for both of us—
wasting our time, cursing the very love I swore to keep sacred.
She covered me in kisses like a new born, but this child grew too
far, too fast, away from her arms.
Now these tears run cold, drying out the rain. And still, their
beauty remains— washing it all away, even the memories of pain.
Oct 5, 2025
Oct 5, 2025 at 3:46 PM UTC
Chandelier tears—pretty faces, pretty tears, pretty much falling,
_crashing._ Clear the room—this empty space sobers me; I’ve
been drunk on emotion again. The heavier ones don’t bring
me peace anymore, they only hit as hard as another strong
drink.
Should I speak? And in the same breath admit defeat—
these dark thoughts are so creative they become destructive,
crafting a beautiful kind of ruin I can barely reason with.
Hey—just speaking truth for those interested in it. __Truth is...__
I’m not always okay. I pretend to be, just to survive the weight
of another day.
It’s a dark space, and I clear the room to break down quietly,
to feel like I’ve repented something, to write myself into a better
place—hopping over the pen, jumping the fence of a mind that
sometimes cages me in. I’m not so pent-up anymore— not when
I let the ink do the talking.
And yes, I try to wear a brave face—but every face sheds a heavy
tear, every person caves eventually. Pitted against themselves.
As even the strongest people, the loudest, or the proudest—
they cry too. Just…not in front of you.
Jun 29, 2025
Jun 29, 2025 at 1:44 PM UTC
I went looking for someone to blame for all the cracks
in my name, for the mess I made — but that mirror
didn’t tell a lie. The culprit wore my face.
_I don’t want your love. I don’t want your shame._
Still, somehow, you found me — tongue bitter with
the taste of your mistakes; pressed against my teeth
like communion for the broken.
Tears rose — blooming smoke, clouds of falling flowers.
A storm of soft destruction, raining petals made of regret —
but it never rained just mine. It rained yours too.
Yet you learn to grow from the things that once cut
you down. Even the sharpest wounds can become
something softer when you let them go.
Edges trimmed; old roots shed — and still, I rise.
So now, when you see me, don’t mistake me for my
damage. I am not the bruise. I am not the blade.
I am far better than the sum of my mistakes.
Jun 11, 2025
Jun 11, 2025 at 5:21 AM UTC
Time and again—
I convince myself I'm not waiting—
Now or later.
What I confessed yesterday—
It was nothing more than to make your day.
I can compete with someone who likes you,
But I can't compete with someone you like.
Don't worry about me, sir
I stand in freedom.
Dec 1, 2024
Dec 1, 2024 at 6:22 AM UTC