#vulnerableverse - Hello Poetry

I guess now, the night we met is just a memory— a self-portrait without ****** features, Only streaks where tears once ran, as the image is so blurry, but I still see myself Running back to you… _too easily_. It’s such a sad picture— an enigma, half-painted with eager thoughts quietly bleeding Into the ink of doubt, each brushstroke pulling me further from the truth I never wanted to name Now it just hangs… _so awkwardly crooked_ You left me walking alone in this gallery _of only terrible memories._

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Jul 16, 2025

Jul 16, 2025 at 3:01 PM UTC

OddOdysseyPoet

Terrible Memories on Display

I guess now, the night we met is just a memory— a self-portrait without ****** features, Only streaks where tears once ran, as the image is so blurry, but I still see myself Running back to you… _too easily_. It’s such a sad picture— an enigma, half-painted with eager thoughts quietly bleeding Into the ink of doubt, each brushstroke pulling me further from the truth I never wanted to name Now it just hangs… _so awkwardly crooked_ You left me walking alone in this gallery _of only terrible memories._

12

_Sigh_! It comes like a train — an express line through my thoughts, _no stops, no warnings._ Oh how DEPRESSION clips at my heels, familiar as shadow, unwelcome as memory. Defeated — like sunlight pressed to branches too burdened to bloom. My heart hangs in moss — heavy, strangled in the green silence of old grief. Tears lean like leafless trees, bowed in all directions, yet rooted in a place with no direction — a forest dying quietly, where even the familiar trails feel like ghost roads I no longer recognize. I feel short of worth — like coins counted in silence, never enough to buy the currency of being loved. I glow in daylight, but dusk takes its due — and now I dim with every breath. I try to speak, but end up forcing books down my throat, pages crammed with words I never learned to say. But you’ll never see me cry in public — I’m an island left off every map, burying bottle messages even I won’t recover. I have so much hopeful words for others, but I’m a stack of unread stories to myself; a pen that dries before I can name the ache. And somewhere inside —I find a red box with hidden compartments, each one meant to hold something sacred. But they echo when I open them — _soft, hollow_ reminders that even my soul has forgotten how to fill its space.

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Jul 27, 2025

Jul 27, 2025 at 2:52 PM UTC

OddOdysseyPoet

The Compartments I Can’t Fill

_Sigh_! It comes like a train — an express line through my thoughts, _no stops, no warnings._ Oh how DEPRESSION clips at my heels, familiar as shadow, unwelcome as memory. Defeated — like sunlight pressed to branches too burdened to bloom. My heart hangs in moss — heavy, strangled in the green silence of old grief. Tears lean like leafless trees, bowed in all directions, yet rooted in a place with no direction — a forest dying quietly, where even the familiar trails feel like ghost roads I no longer recognize. I feel short of worth — like coins counted in silence, never enough to buy the currency of being loved. I glow in daylight, but dusk takes its due — and now I dim with every breath. I try to speak, but end up forcing books down my throat, pages crammed with words I never learned to say. But you’ll never see me cry in public — I’m an island left off every map, burying bottle messages even I won’t recover. I have so much hopeful words for others, but I’m a stack of unread stories to myself; a pen that dries before I can name the ache. And somewhere inside —I find a red box with hidden compartments, each one meant to hold something sacred. But they echo when I open them — _soft, hollow_ reminders that even my soul has forgotten how to fill its space.

28

__Sinking tears –__ feelings don’t fall, they crash like glass hearts meeting pavement. Your chest? A sunken place. No bra strap to hold it up – just white linen, innocent for a moment, until it slips in front of eyes like mirrors reflecting every scar painted on your skin. __Sandcastle kisses,__ built soft – _fragile_ – on lips that no longer believe in forever. Yet you speak like royalty, saying boldly: __“Love me for what I am –__ not just who you think I’ve been.” Not a princess. Not a saviour. A mess. A wreck. _A fallen queen._ Wearing her cracked gold crown like a forgotten joke – that still makes your heart ache when it returns in the quiet between memories. __Bones for time__ – you pick at every hour like it owes you something. _Tick. Tick._ __Snap!__ The clock breaks where your mind does. You may live in the day, but you __breathe__ in the night. Freer beneath moonlight, where shadows stop asking questions – and silence finally listens.

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Jun 14, 2025

Jun 14, 2025 at 3:14 PM UTC

OddOdysseyPoet

She Breathes in the Night

__Sinking tears –__ feelings don’t fall, they crash like glass hearts meeting pavement. Your chest? A sunken place. No bra strap to hold it up – just white linen, innocent for a moment, until it slips in front of eyes like mirrors reflecting every scar painted on your skin. __Sandcastle kisses,__ built soft – _fragile_ – on lips that no longer believe in forever. Yet you speak like royalty, saying boldly: __“Love me for what I am –__ not just who you think I’ve been.” Not a princess. Not a saviour. A mess. A wreck. _A fallen queen._ Wearing her cracked gold crown like a forgotten joke – that still makes your heart ache when it returns in the quiet between memories. __Bones for time__ – you pick at every hour like it owes you something. _Tick. Tick._ __Snap!__ The clock breaks where your mind does. You may live in the day, but you __breathe__ in the night. Freer beneath moonlight, where shadows stop asking questions – and silence finally listens.

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