#quietpain - Hello Poetry

The city keeps him awake. Not with noise, with glow. Screens layered over screens, light stacked into light until the night forgets itself. He sits in it willingly, move pieces across a digital board, black to white, white to black, predicting endings ten steps before they arrive. Everything here follows rules. Everything can be won, or lost, or learned. Outside, the sky is sealed shut. He says stars don’t come anymore. She wraps herself in a blanket that smells like dust and sun, and slips out to the paddocks where the world finally exhales. Grass whispers against itself. Fences creak like they remember things. The dark is not empty here, it watches back. She lowers herself into it, curling small against the cold, like if she takes up less space it might leave her alone. But it always finds her. It settles in slow, threading through her ribs, pulling tight in places no one else can see. The sky, at least, breaks open for her. Constellations scatter themselves ancient and indifferent, and every so often something tears loose. A streak of light, brief and burning, gone before it means anything. She gathers those moments anyways. Wishes on them, quick, quiet, desperate, like pressing her hands against a door that won’t open. He studies pattern. Knows how knights move in L-shapes, how queens dominate the board, how every mistake can be traced back to a single, careless choice. He understands pressure, anticipation, the slow collapse of a position you can’t quite save. But this this has no board. No turns. No rules. Just the way her voice sometimes thins, like it’s being pulled somewhere else. Just the way silence sits too comfortably on her shoulders. She lies back further into the grass, blanket slipping, cold seeping in unnoticed. The sky keeps undoing itself above her, small, beautiful failures falling out of the dark. She wishes harder. Not for things, not really just for somewhere else. He pauses mid game, cursor hovering, a move waiting to be made. For a moment, he stares past the screen at nothing, at everything he can’t name. He wishes, not to anything in particular, just into the dim, electric quiet that whatever is pulling her under would let go.

0

Apr 11

Apr 11, 2026 at 6:36 PM UTC

WiltedEverly

Two Kinds of Nights

The city keeps him awake. Not with noise, with glow. Screens layered over screens, light stacked into light until the night forgets itself. He sits in it willingly, move pieces across a digital board, black to white, white to black, predicting endings ten steps before they arrive. Everything here follows rules. Everything can be won, or lost, or learned. Outside, the sky is sealed shut. He says stars don’t come anymore. She wraps herself in a blanket that smells like dust and sun, and slips out to the paddocks where the world finally exhales. Grass whispers against itself. Fences creak like they remember things. The dark is not empty here, it watches back. She lowers herself into it, curling small against the cold, like if she takes up less space it might leave her alone. But it always finds her. It settles in slow, threading through her ribs, pulling tight in places no one else can see. The sky, at least, breaks open for her. Constellations scatter themselves ancient and indifferent, and every so often something tears loose. A streak of light, brief and burning, gone before it means anything. She gathers those moments anyways. Wishes on them, quick, quiet, desperate, like pressing her hands against a door that won’t open. He studies pattern. Knows how knights move in L-shapes, how queens dominate the board, how every mistake can be traced back to a single, careless choice. He understands pressure, anticipation, the slow collapse of a position you can’t quite save. But this this has no board. No turns. No rules. Just the way her voice sometimes thins, like it’s being pulled somewhere else. Just the way silence sits too comfortably on her shoulders. She lies back further into the grass, blanket slipping, cold seeping in unnoticed. The sky keeps undoing itself above her, small, beautiful failures falling out of the dark. She wishes harder. Not for things, not really just for somewhere else. He pauses mid game, cursor hovering, a move waiting to be made. For a moment, he stares past the screen at nothing, at everything he can’t name. He wishes, not to anything in particular, just into the dim, electric quiet that whatever is pulling her under would let go.

85

I didn’t disappear. I just stopped announcing myself. I stayed close enough to be seen if anyone bothered to look — left small signs behind, nothing dramatic, nothing that would make a scene. Scuffed edges. Uneven ground. Places where I slowed down more than I should have. If you see them, do you recognize them as mine? Or do they blur into the background with everything else people step over? I learned how to be present without taking up space, how to hurt quietly, how to survive without interrupting. So yes — I’m here. The marks are subtle on purpose. I didn’t want to beg. I didn’t want to be inconvenient. I just wanted to know if noticing me would ever be enough. Because being found isn’t the same as being chosen. And being seen doesn’t mean being cared for. So if you’re following the trail, tell me — are you just curious? Or do you actually intend to stop when you reach me?

0

Mar 30

Mar 30, 2026 at 8:01 PM UTC

firebirdie

If You're Looking

I didn’t disappear. I just stopped announcing myself. I stayed close enough to be seen if anyone bothered to look — left small signs behind, nothing dramatic, nothing that would make a scene. Scuffed edges. Uneven ground. Places where I slowed down more than I should have. If you see them, do you recognize them as mine? Or do they blur into the background with everything else people step over? I learned how to be present without taking up space, how to hurt quietly, how to survive without interrupting. So yes — I’m here. The marks are subtle on purpose. I didn’t want to beg. I didn’t want to be inconvenient. I just wanted to know if noticing me would ever be enough. Because being found isn’t the same as being chosen. And being seen doesn’t mean being cared for. So if you’re following the trail, tell me — are you just curious? Or do you actually intend to stop when you reach me?

37

It was all fine. I lived in my little cardboard box and I ate what I got from the trash. It was all fine until that stranger knelt down and gave me a banknote. "Go buy some food", he said. "It'll help you". Then I realized. It struck me like lightning and unraveled my mind like a tornado. Then, for the first time in years, I cried.

0

Mar 21

Mar 21, 2026 at 12:32 PM UTC

Shattentraumer

Litost

It was all fine. I lived in my little cardboard box and I ate what I got from the trash. It was all fine until that stranger knelt down and gave me a banknote. "Go buy some food", he said. "It'll help you". Then I realized. It struck me like lightning and unraveled my mind like a tornado. Then, for the first time in years, I cried.

21

...I ask myself, "is it real to say I'm in love with you" spelling out the letters for your love … mostly lies; ALL CAPS ON – ....pin a needle through my eye just to pin all of our interests into my mind.... your pinterest feed: mostly emo locs, low-hanging hair covering the shame on your face — yet framing it beautifully, in a cute way. i see my pain reflected in your eyes — pairing ourselves in opposing mirrors, where opposites attract and friendship rarely leads us astray. even when we burn out on each other, tapping our emotions into an ashtray. we are the art of a shared destruction — and if we both walk away unscathed, consider us very lucky.

0

Mar 6

Mar 6, 2026 at 2:54 PM UTC

OddOdysseyPoet

mirror burn

...I ask myself, "is it real to say I'm in love with you" spelling out the letters for your love … mostly lies; ALL CAPS ON – ....pin a needle through my eye just to pin all of our interests into my mind.... your pinterest feed: mostly emo locs, low-hanging hair covering the shame on your face — yet framing it beautifully, in a cute way. i see my pain reflected in your eyes — pairing ourselves in opposing mirrors, where opposites attract and friendship rarely leads us astray. even when we burn out on each other, tapping our emotions into an ashtray. we are the art of a shared destruction — and if we both walk away unscathed, consider us very lucky.

24

I will fade with time Lost in shadows unheard in wind Melted fog on window glass No one will know Just a sad hum flowing hushed low Love demands beauty Endless sacrifice and infinite duty. Couldn't gain anything My mind is a infirtile land only grows sadness Sticky growing massive plant May I pass my lifetime soon ? Hate the way it hurts Emptiness makes me out of breath under lonely moon Lucky people have all mental peace Time never heals Just makes a habit ,mocks how I feel Time never left empty handed Took all of my broken wings If I could see better Dust on my unsent letter God will know today or later My pride being questioned Lost tears i never mentioned I will leave one day When my tears will get dry Numb the way I see the silence Dumb human I feel so much Lonely tears needed a warm hug Yet I broke my buddy coffee mug My end is in every morning When I wake up and find the sun Heart beats within burning hum Death might be beautiful I yearn for Whole my life ..I will wait for The voice of my head Never fades They dissolve in the tears I shed I write the silence no one reads Yet, I will keep giving life to all my pains ..they will live Preserved in my broken poetry.

0

Jan 23

Jan 23, 2026 at 2:19 AM UTC

Thesilentobserver

Fading

I will fade with time Lost in shadows unheard in wind Melted fog on window glass No one will know Just a sad hum flowing hushed low Love demands beauty Endless sacrifice and infinite duty. Couldn't gain anything My mind is a infirtile land only grows sadness Sticky growing massive plant May I pass my lifetime soon ? Hate the way it hurts Emptiness makes me out of breath under lonely moon Lucky people have all mental peace Time never heals Just makes a habit ,mocks how I feel Time never left empty handed Took all of my broken wings If I could see better Dust on my unsent letter God will know today or later My pride being questioned Lost tears i never mentioned I will leave one day When my tears will get dry Numb the way I see the silence Dumb human I feel so much Lonely tears needed a warm hug Yet I broke my buddy coffee mug My end is in every morning When I wake up and find the sun Heart beats within burning hum Death might be beautiful I yearn for Whole my life ..I will wait for The voice of my head Never fades They dissolve in the tears I shed I write the silence no one reads Yet, I will keep giving life to all my pains ..they will live Preserved in my broken poetry.

42

She will never know The violence it took To be this gentle.

0

Jul 14, 2025

Jul 14, 2025 at 5:19 PM UTC

Ricardo

CALM

She will never know The violence it took To be this gentle.

3

Love is a flame, a memory of orange flickering behind the ribs, a match I didn’t know I struck just by saying his name. Not a wildfire. It’s quieter than that. A pilot light that keeps burning even when no one’s home. Sometimes I hate it for that. Its persistence. Its patience. It’s refusal to let me go cold. Because I tried. To blow it out. To bury it beneath logic and long explanations and “maybe he didn’t mean to.” But there it is, in the way I still pause at doorways, hoping someone will see me hesitate and stay.

0

Jun 29, 2025

Jun 29, 2025 at 2:26 AM UTC

poeticsoulwhispers

Love

Love is a flame, a memory of orange flickering behind the ribs, a match I didn’t know I struck just by saying his name. Not a wildfire. It’s quieter than that. A pilot light that keeps burning even when no one’s home. Sometimes I hate it for that. Its persistence. Its patience. It’s refusal to let me go cold. Because I tried. To blow it out. To bury it beneath logic and long explanations and “maybe he didn’t mean to.” But there it is, in the way I still pause at doorways, hoping someone will see me hesitate and stay.

25

i keep telling myself it’s not a big deal people fall in love people drift apart but it wasn’t supposed to be them not the two people i trusted not the two faces i looked at and thought, “they’ll never do that to me” funny how betrayal doesn’t come with sirens no alarms just small silences a skipped message a weird glance a laugh that didn’t include me this time and i wonder— when did they first look at each other like that? was it while i was talking? was it during one of those nights i was pouring my heart out to her and he was just… there? she knew they both knew and still they smiled at me still asked how i was like they weren’t already pulling the knife out of my back to see how deep it went i don’t even feel anger right now just emptiness like i’m standing outside my own life watching it fold in on itself quiet unimportant maybe this is what it means to be forgotten not in absence but in plain sight to be looked at and not seen i keep thinking i’ll cry but my body must’ve decided it’s not worth the water and maybe it’s right maybe i’m just a chapter they skipped through a placeholder until they figured out what they really wanted but god why did what they wanted have to be each other?

0

Jun 13, 2025

Jun 13, 2025 at 8:41 PM UTC

ilomilo

Not Them

i keep telling myself it’s not a big deal people fall in love people drift apart but it wasn’t supposed to be them not the two people i trusted not the two faces i looked at and thought, “they’ll never do that to me” funny how betrayal doesn’t come with sirens no alarms just small silences a skipped message a weird glance a laugh that didn’t include me this time and i wonder— when did they first look at each other like that? was it while i was talking? was it during one of those nights i was pouring my heart out to her and he was just… there? she knew they both knew and still they smiled at me still asked how i was like they weren’t already pulling the knife out of my back to see how deep it went i don’t even feel anger right now just emptiness like i’m standing outside my own life watching it fold in on itself quiet unimportant maybe this is what it means to be forgotten not in absence but in plain sight to be looked at and not seen i keep thinking i’ll cry but my body must’ve decided it’s not worth the water and maybe it’s right maybe i’m just a chapter they skipped through a placeholder until they figured out what they really wanted but god why did what they wanted have to be each other?

50