#writingthroughpain
I hate myself
for doing this again to you—
hurting you.
But it’s better than waiting
for you to break my heart;
I’ve seen this story before—
same plot, different actor.
It’s always the same;
you’re no different from them.
I’d rather take love from fictional characters—
the kind that never leaves,
never demands too much from me,
always there—
like ink, forever loyal to the paper.
Nov 2, 2025
Nov 2, 2025 at 12:38 PM UTC
After everything
didn’t you learn anything?
You were supposed
to be healing by now,
reflecting on the mistakes,
on the love you gave
that was never solid—
only wind.
It was not true,
even if you are certain it was.
It wasn’t, love.
It was emptiness,
a hunger for affection.
If you had stopped,
just for a moment,
to think about it,
you would have known too.
You shouldn’t be writing
about us,
about our love,
our undone plans.
You should be writing
about your traumas.
Sep 21, 2025
Sep 21, 2025 at 5:57 PM UTC
i covered myself
in words
like seeds
i prayed to gods
i don’t believe in
your goodbye
was not a coffin
it was soil
and i
am learning
to bloom
Sep 25, 2025
Sep 25, 2025 at 8:13 AM UTC
i tried to use words
as bandages
i prayed to gods
i don’t believe in
your goodbye
was not freedom
it was a coffin
Oct 10, 2025
Oct 10, 2025 at 6:08 AM UTC
her smile
stops at her eyes
but i still believe
in first dates
Sep 29, 2025
Sep 29, 2025 at 7:32 AM UTC
You’re kind of funny, you know.
I wanted to stay in our home,
but you said
I was the one moving out—
because I chose separation.
You yelled at me
when we tried to fix things,
shouting that I should
pack my things
and walk away.
Now you’re the one moving,
asking if I want to live there.
Of course not.
I’m on another frequency now.
And yet you want me
to solve the problems
with the painting—
me,
the one you invited to leave.
Where’s your speech now?
You wanted the house.
So—
keep the house.
Sep 29, 2025
Sep 29, 2025 at 7:32 AM UTC
Your poetry still blossoms
in my heart each morning,
just like I told you before.
I also said
my heart would decide
by October.
We’re almost there.
But your last message
struck something in me,
made me rethink
if you were truly worthy
to enter this sacred space
I’ve built around myself.
I feel older now,
wiser,
more beautiful,
radiant.
I’ve grown so much
these past months
that the tarot reading
from the start of the year
finally makes sense.
And you—
you are still immature.
Oct 6, 2025
Oct 6, 2025 at 11:21 AM UTC
Today is a portal day—
a day to close cycles,
to remember,
to say enough.
And who messages me?
You.
Like confirmation
from the universe.
I saw the photos online—
you with her,
traveling,
smiling.
But always behind sunglasses,
so no one notices
how bored you are.
My sister says
she’s just a filler,
a stand-in.
There’s no glow in your eyes.
All that’s left
is to laugh at the scene,
because deep down,
it feels almost comical.
So I wish you happiness—
though my heart is stormy,
angry, torn.
If I wish you harm,
I create bad karma.
So—
many felicities.
Sep 29, 2025
Sep 29, 2025 at 7:33 AM UTC
Now that I have clarity,
lucidity—
I see it was impossible
for us to continue together.
It’s a fact,
undeniable.
Your world is too small for me.
I am expansive,
vast,
I fill rooms
and lives.
In your world,
the same stories repeat,
the same people
with the same problems.
And there is nothing wrong
with living that life.
But my soul
asks for something else.
Sep 30, 2025
Sep 30, 2025 at 7:29 AM UTC
I wonder if you think
I’m dying for you,
worrying for you,
suffering for you.
In your fantasies,
how do I appear?
Red eyes,
tear-stained cheeks?
I must look
terribly bland
in your daydream.
But the truth is—
I’m fine.
Thanks.
Oct 22, 2025
Oct 22, 2025 at 7:39 PM UTC
What is it to be a poet?
Oh, I wish that I knew,
how do I paint the sky in words?
Without calling it blue?
As a poet can see,
what is blind to many eyes.
How they see through the fog,
of a world full of lies.
Oh, to be a poet,
is a blessing in disguise.
How do I write my heart ?
When it's plotting my demise.
A poet's life, is a life filled with pain,
bearing a burden they can't explain,
so they sit alone and write a verse,
and wonder, if poetry is a curse.
Oh I wish to be a poet,
allow my heart to feel it's pain,
to use curse of poetry,
to mend my heart again.
Aug 29, 2025
Aug 29, 2025 at 1:45 PM UTC
Yes, you made it through—
alive.
Good.
I’m glad.
But I promised my best friend
I’d take a couple days
before answering you.
I set boundaries.
Actually, you set them first.
And now
I won’t cross them.
Even if you made a scene,
claiming you might die.
How foolish.
Stay quiet.
Recover.
One day,
I’ll answer you.
Oct 22, 2025
Oct 22, 2025 at 7:38 PM UTC
You called me crazy,
tired of my love.
But when I was gone,
my madness
was the first thing
you missed.
Oct 21, 2025
Oct 21, 2025 at 5:30 PM UTC
Do you remember
how happy, how joyful I seemed?
Though deep inside,
I was pure sadness,
pure depression.
Do you remember
how I tried
to keep the air light,
to show you
how much I loved you?
How I hung on your neck
like I might break it
with the weight of my embrace,
how I kissed your cheek
as if I might press it
straight into your skin?
You hated it.
Told me to get a grip,
to find direction,
that I was a little crazy.
Yes—
crazy with love for you.
And when the crisis came,
the first thing you wanted back
was my madness.
Oct 20, 2025
Oct 20, 2025 at 11:22 AM UTC
Sometimes,
you need to sing
to yourself—
just to remember
you are still heard.
Sep 14, 2025
Sep 14, 2025 at 2:16 PM UTC
Yes,
I can get upset
over silly things.
Yes,
I can get angry
at the smallest details.
And that’s okay.
I take those feelings,
pour them into poetry,
or fists against my pillow.
And that’s okay.
But if I spoke of these little things—
the failures,
the sadness—
to everyone,
not all would understand.
And that’s okay.
It’s about feeling,
letting it out,
letting it pass,
and finding peace
within myself.
Sep 26, 2025
Sep 26, 2025 at 6:05 AM UTC
You are not my daughter—
you are the daughter
of his late brother.
But everyone used to say
you looked like me,
that you could have easily
been mine.
And that was fine.
I called you princess,
because you are.
I don’t know
when you will realize this,
but the place you’re growing up in
is a hard one.
I won’t say I miss you,
but I wonder—
do you ever miss me?
Because in the few moments
we shared,
you clung to me,
you painted my face,
brushed my hair,
and for a while—
I became a princess
in your kingdom.
I hope the little time we had
was enough to show you
there is more to life.
Never stop dreaming, Nic.
You can go far.
All it takes
is believing.
Sep 14, 2025
Sep 14, 2025 at 2:16 PM UTC
There’s a girl at school
with porcelain skin,
white as snow—
but her wrists
are covered in red lines.
I had to report it
to the administration.
It was the right thing to do.
I don’t know if she knows
it was me.
But now she lingers
in the principal’s office,
her face even paler,
nauseous,
locking herself
in the bathroom.
I fear I’ve made public
what was sacredly private
in her universe—
and that it may get worse.
My chest feels heavy
imagining what she might do
to herself,
if they don’t care for her
the right way.
Because once,
I was a girl
just like her.
Sep 14, 2025
Sep 14, 2025 at 2:15 PM UTC
It’s only a birthday cake,
and not even mine.
It shouldn’t matter—
just a slice.
But what weighs heavy
is the thoughtfulness,
the not being remembered.
Yesterday I covered your shift,
so you could run to the cafeteria
and grab a free treat.
I thought of you,
so you could taste
the same joy I did.
And this taught me—
we should never be kind
expecting something in return.
Not that I expected a reward.
I did it out of partnership,
because I thought
we were friends.
But no—
we’re just coworkers.
Nothing more.
Oct 20, 2025
Oct 20, 2025 at 11:22 AM UTC
It’s not about the pain itself,
but the pain as company—
to carry it with me today,
because once
there was no love,
no peace,
no joy.
Oct 3, 2025
Oct 3, 2025 at 6:13 AM UTC
Dear—tell me,
do you really think
he loves you?
Until you appeared
out of nowhere,
he was still trying
to reconcile with me.
So no,
don’t believe him
so easily.
You are more of a filler,
a patch for the void.
He might post your photos
on Instagram,
call you family—
but you’ve been with him
for a month.
I was there
for seven years.
He won’t get over me
that fast.
He’s replacing one love
with another.
But maybe you’re just
a convenient body
to take to the gym.
So, my dear,
face reality:
he doesn’t love you
that much.
Oct 2, 2025
Oct 2, 2025 at 11:23 AM UTC
He took you
to meet his family.
He runs with you
on Sunday mornings.
He drives you around the city
in a car that, though he pays the bills,
still carries my name.
All these things
he once did with me.
He is suffering, darling.
I left.
I carved a hole,
a void in his life.
And desperate,
he found you.
Same body type,
same skin,
same hair.
The difference is—
you are older.
And they say older women
don’t have patience
for younger boys.
I hope
he doesn’t give you
too much trouble.
Oct 20, 2025
Oct 20, 2025 at 11:22 AM UTC
He likes his *** calm,
but he wants the woman
to be wild.
So wear the red lingerie—
it leaves him breathless.
He likes to start slow
and finish fast.
He never lasts long.
I don’t know
what your past was like,
but he told me
with his ex
they did it five times in a row.
Yes—
that feeling you have now
is the same I had
when he said no to me.
So when he’s too tired
and you are burning with desire,
keep a ********
as your best friend.
Because he will always
Take his fill—
And leave you
Hungry
Oct 19, 2025
Oct 19, 2025 at 10:18 AM UTC
Has he already told you
to stop nagging?
Has he already said,
“Don’t start”?
Has he already begun
his ritual of silence
after a fight—
two days without a word,
without looking at you?
Worse still,
if you’re living
under the same roof.
He told me he was moving out,
asked if I wanted to live
in our old apartment.
But he already knows
I’m somewhere else,
living another life.
So I think he only wanted
to stir up conversation,
to awaken some kind
of concern in me.
Oct 19, 2025
Oct 19, 2025 at 10:16 AM UTC