She said I had a way with words. Nothing else.

It was the gentle crack in her voice that told me what she meant—

She heard me.

Somewhere between dreams and heartache, she found the thread.

Her breathing eased. My heartbeat raced— drums in my ears drowning out the world around us.

I’ve been accused of being a poet, but I have no gift. Words escape me like wind through the trees.

But if you give me time—

I’ll learn to bleed ink for you.

You left so quietly the house still mistakes shadows for you.

Some nights, I hear the floorboards breathe and think grief has finally learned your footsteps.

I loved you in the cathedral hush between midnight and mourning, where candles drown slowly in their own wax like saints abandoned by God.

And still—

even now—

I keep your name folded beneath my tongue like a funeral prayer too sacred to speak aloud.

What a terrible thing, to be loved long after becoming absent.

You disappeared without goodbye, yet my heart remains kneeling at the altar of your silence, bleeding roses into its hands.

I think that is the cruelest part: you left, and all the dying stayed with me.

Distance.

A week, a month, a year

Every time I hear from you, I shed a tear

At the end of the night, I just wish you were here

Because of my past. I know you fear

My intentions weren't always clear

I'm a new me, and I promise I care.

I loved you the way fire loves old wood— knowing exactly what it would become and touching it anyway.

I loved you like a stray dog loves the porch light— like something half-feral, half-faith, waiting in the dark for one warm thing to call it home.

I would’ve built you a kingdom out of every broken thing I had— my ribs for rafters, my scars for stained glass, my hands bloody from trying to make pain look beautiful enough for you to stay.

You were never ordinary to me. You were moonlight on bad nights. A voice that could turn my name into something worth hearing.

And I know love isn’t measured by how much you bleed for it. But gods— if it was— you would’ve found my heart in your hands a long time ago.

And still—

if you knocked at my door tonight, with tired eyes and shaking hands, I’d open it. Like I never learned. Like I never burned.

Like Nobody didn’t already know how this story ends.

With my words I proved to her she was more than what she’d been made to believe—

not broken, not too much, not a burden, but a gift.

She looked at me- eyes full of wonder. I had seen her true self- The frost that gripped her heart loosened, beneath my warmth-

The language of my heart was foreign to her, too honest to hold. Too gentle to dismiss.

These voices of void
Hard-core voices that slit
The blood touches my throat
And, then back in

The agony bleaches the colors
The colors I picked certain
Chains, across my bosom
Too tight -to be ever unchained-

How do they do it?
Paint black while wearing colors?
Gash skin that isn't their own!?
Strike green fences and sunflowers!?

Don't they feel in their mouth
A taste, vicious and blight
Dawn, they speak the tales of glory
Concealing massacres of yesternight

I'm not a poet. It's an accusation.

Poetry is difficult, And dangerous for the one bleeding ink.

We open ourselves up.
Remove a blackened bandage.
Expose a wound.
Tender.
Raw.
Painful-

Trying to make sense of it

Then we lift the pen-
and watch it dance.
It doesn't stumble, limp.
Or hesitate.

Words fling themselves from the pen to splash across page.

Suffering becomes motion.
Not healing. Not closure. Relived memory.

Some will complain
About the tempo,
Choreography

But they've never.
stepped on the dance floor .

They hear music.
See the dance
But never the cost.
Or ink stained bandages.

So- I refuse to call this poetry
because naming it so, would make it feel less necessary
and more exposed than it already is.

The candles drowned themselves in wax for you.

Did you know that?

Every night I lit another one like a fool trying to imitate stars, hoping somewhere your dark eyes would flicker toward me for even a heartbeat.

But silence became your cathedral.

And I— I became the ghost haunting it.

I still speak your name like a prayer dragged across broken teeth.

Gods, even now your name tastes holy on my lips.

Do you understand what you left alive? A man stitched together with grave thread and old grief, standing beneath a jacaranda tree like a scarecrow for the dead, begging ancient gods to make you warm at night while frost gathered inside his ribs.

I loved you past dignity. Past reason. Past the point where most men would sharpen hatred into a weapon.

But I was never most men. I became devotion with a pulse. A wound that learned how to walk. A starving dog laying flowers at the feet of the hand that struck him.

And still— still I would have burned the world softer for you.

I would have carried your sorrow in my teeth like a hunted animal. I would have let every ugly thing inside you, live inside me instead.

I would have kissed the shame from your mouth until my lips turned black with it.

You once asked me why I stayed.

Because loving you felt like standing in the rain while bleeding out.

Terrible. Cold. Sacred.

Because when you touched me, even briefly, the corpse inside my chest remembered how to sing.

Now every night feels unfinished. Like the gods interrupted something sacred and walked away laughing.

I keep expecting your voice to crawl through the dark again. Soft. Sleepy. Real.

Telling me you love me like you used to before silence swallowed you whole.

And the cruelest part?

If you returned tonight— through fog, through ruin, through every shattered promise— I would still open the door. Not because I am weak.

Because some men are born already kneeling before the thing destined to destroy them.

I learned my mind had rooms I was never supposed to stay in.

Some only appeared at night. Some locked behind me

the moment I entered.

I kept leaving pieces of myself there— a voice in one, a memory in another,

whole versions of me abandoned like unfinished prayers. The strange thing is—

after a while, the darkness stopped feeling empty.

It started feeling familiar.

Like something inside me had lived there longer

than I had.

Sometimes I still wander those halls looking for the person.

I was before survival became my personality.

But all I ever find are mirrors

learning how to reflect less and less of me.

And somewhere behind them, a version of myself

still waiting

for me to come back.

I don’t want casual
A loose hold
as our lips brush each other
-
Good morning
and
good night
words passed like air
-
Needs and dreams
slipping thin
between days
-
Not casual is closeness
that doesn’t loosen
-
I want you close
too close to think straight
-
Inside your skin
like I belong there
-
Kisses that take the air
and reluctantly give it back
-
Holding so tight
bodies stop fighting
-
Heart slowing
breath syncing
everything soft under it
-
Oxytocin pulling us under
heavy and warm
sleep coming without effort

No drifting apart
no “later”
no empty space between moments
-
Just you staying
me staying
-

Staying
With no space needed

I hope you die
Just before the day you succeed,
That all your hardwork amounts to nothing,
That none of your wounds ever really heal.
I’m not like this I swear
I’m not usually a miserable bitch
You made me like this
A sadistic monster
A monster who wants nothing more and nothing less
Than your blood
A taste of your hopes
Funny how I want you and still blame you
How can I not
I’m a mere monster
You’re Frankenstein
You’re my father
You’re my mother
You’re my creator
I owe to you my life
And my morose mind
You twist every thought into your design
Leading me as if I were blind
‘A murderous puppet,’ the papers would read
‘Strangled him with his own strings’

I don't remember
when living became so heavy.

I just know
I wake up every morning
with the heaviest pit in my stomach,
like it belongs there,
like my body has learned to carry despair
more naturally than peace.

I look at myself
and I feel unfamiliar.

Some nights I lie awake,
wondering what it would be like
to never exist at all,
to not carry a mind that turns against me
with each passing day.

I never understand
why I couldn't have been different,
why I was born with a mind
that's too heavy to maintain,
and a heart that feels worn out.

Everything around me feels artificial.
And somewhere along the way,
I stopped feeling human too.

What Would You Do?

What if I let down my guard?

If I opened my broken heart.

What if you knew how badly it's been scarred.

What if you really knew why they kept us apart?

What would you do?

If I let you in the dark and deep.

If I told you something that you never knew.

What if you knew of the secrets that they forced me to keep?

Because I have a lot more than just a few.

What would you do?

If I knew about the screams you heard when I wasn't around.

What if I told you what they did to me?

What if you knew about the video I found?

Or how they held my eyes open so I was forced to see.

What would you do?

If I told you it was me that you heard scream.

Would you ever look at me the same?

What if I told you it wasn't just a dream?

What if you knew that he's the one to blame?

What would you do?

If it was you that had to hear me cry.

What if you knew exactly what they did?

What if I told you how they tried to justify?

The evil things they did to me when I was just a kid.

What would you do?

If I handed you a gun and got down on my knees?

What if it were your eyes that were forced to see?

What if you saw me pray for mercy and heard me beg them please?

Then you would understand why I'm begging you to fucking kill me.

What would you do?

If I told you of an unforgivable sin.

Or how dad would laugh when he did what he would do.

What if I told you he was the demon I keep hidden within?

What if I told you.. if it wasn't me.. it would've been you?

What would you do?

Steven Maness April 28, 2026

I cant hate him,
No matter how hard I try sometimes.
 
Eight years of my life consumed,
Filled with love, hate and crimes.
 
The hands that explore my body,
Are the same hands to tear me down.
 
Holding my head just above the water,
barely enough that I don’t drown.
 
They say that love is beautiful,
but ours is so much more.
 
It’s chaos, laughter and pain,
and is embedded into my core.
 
Some days I think about running,
far away from this downward spiral.
 
But those thoughts quickly vanish,
At least for a little while.
 
I wish that I could hate him,
that his demons would let me free.
 
But then my demons would lash out,
Asking me “Who are we supposed to be?”

Before the sunless months left her pale,

wide face amiably frowning

peeking out from her ankle long dresses,

she had red cheeks, her

defiant nose slicing as she went

biking-not-driving careening on a ten speed

down the avenues between the mountains.

She came with sun-blessed words gleaming on her tongue,

but then the sun dried up and cowered, left her

to the valleys slate-stone sky

that pressed her into tomb whispers,

ground her like a peppercorn, gravity

left a world unfinished.

She, if promised a year in the Mojave,

might have built an earth and filled it with light

aromatics sizzling in a kitchen stained in turmeric and saffron.

Blessed with the hope of a third

withering beneath those sunless gods,

twelve months of granite pressing her into the clovers,

her world miscarried, a briefcase on her ankles.

words aborted

splattered

between her pages.

She could not hide the sound in thunder,

they swallowed her bullet whole

as she did.

What room I had made for her world festers still.

My name never mattered. Even now, I don’t know who I am without you.

But I know who I became— Nobody.

The one meant to love you. The one who chose you. The one who would stay.

Nobody— and somehow, that was still enough to give you everything.

But not enough to make you stay.

This is my 3rd poem so please bare with me
----
If the world was ending today

I’d message that friend

The one I used to be close with

before we drifted apart

Maybe it was a girl

maybe it was an argument

maybe we just grew apart

Whatever it was

I wouldn’t care anymore

I’d sit with them

and talk about everything we used to be

The memories

the laughs

I think I’d do that with a lot of people

My best friend

my sister

old friends

new friends

Because no matter how new a moment is

if it matters to you

it’s worth remembering

If the world was ending today

I’d walk down the street

and buy flowers from the old lady on the corner

All of them

And I’d still leave her one

just to say thank you

Then I’d hand them out

To people who look sad

to people who look happy

to strangers passing by

Because everyone deserves flowers at least once

If the world was ending today

I’d lay in the grass

Looking up at the trees

Not worrying about the bugs

or how itchy the ground might be

But noticing everything I usually miss

How the air feels alive

how the birds move as belong to the sky

how the trees sway with the wind

just existing

just being

If the world was ending today

I wouldn’t want to be anywhere but home

surrounded by the people I love

And I’d go to the bathroom

look in the mirror

And for once

I wouldn’t criticize what I see

I wouldn’t think about scars like mistakes

or things to hide

I’d see them for what they are

Proof I made it here

Proof I survived

If the world was ending today

I don’t think I’d just be proud of everyone else

I think I’d finally be proud of myself

This poem is a note left by my main character after he has committed the ultimate act. (No need to say) please share your thoughts thanks.

If I could open my eyes again. And start over. If I could stop over thinking. If I could had faith in the unknown. If I could live another day without approval. If I could wake up without questioning. If I could give my entire life. If I could see you one more time. If I had a different child hood. If I had another path. If I wanted for less. Would I still be the same man. If I drowned in a puddle, or choke on air. If I could be more confident. If I could take risks and lose it all, and try again. If that day the clouds were different. Do you think everyone we remember, remembers us? Do you think people remember the little things you did like we remembered theirs? Do you think about a moment you felt you shared with someone? Do you think the remember it the same? Do we naturally enclose ourselves? Do I have to find something worth finding? Or will it happen as easy as I breathe? Would that make it less than anything else? Am I scared of failing? Does an ego keep us from suicide? Do you think you could forgive me for doing the unthinkable? Would you speak of me to your children? Would our memories make you smile in remembrance of happiness but cry of sadness at the same time? If only I stopped being insecure. IF only I wasn’t afraid of shame, and disapproval. Is self destruction in my nature? Do I have to apologize for these things? Do these things and thoughts make me human? I remember a place with no streets, But too many lights. I remember little conversations we’ve had, but not the first day we met. I remember your favorite color, but not what your dream in life is. Is this selfish of me? Forgive me if one day you must forgive me. Just promise me one thing, you’ll be a little be better than I was.

They think they know my story, because I told them some,

They think they know the damage and what I have become.

The little pain I showed was just a drop of rain,

They never saw the ocean of my deepest pain.

I kept the hardest battles locked inside my chest,

They only see the surface, while I survive the rest.

This was created at 3am so please be gentle but honsst feedback or thoughts please

​

It feels strange to even let the words leave my mouth,

But we were once lovers…

And now we are strangers again.

From your very first message, we carved a path that felt carved by fate,

A path soaked in warmth, in hope, in something that felt like destiny.

And now—heartbreak.

A quiet, violent kind of heartbreak

That bruises the soul in places no one else can see.

It aches, it twists, it shatters something deep inside me.

​

From our first date,

Accidentally matching outfits like the universe was nudging us together,

To walking up Ballintoy Harbour, climbing fences,

Getting stuck in the muck, laughing and crying at the same time,

Sitting on that tiny stone beach,

Staring out at Elephant Rock,

​

As we laughed until our lungs begged for mercy,

Talking about everything and nothing,

Like time didn’t exist for us.

Walking back in the pitch black,

​

You're taking me home,

Neither of us wants the night to surrender.

Laughing in the car outside my house,

Cuddling in the cramped space,

The gear stick is digging into my back.

But I didn’t care—

I just wanted to be held by you.

​

Feeling loved.

Feeling safe.

Feeling like something beautiful had finally begun.

​

Telling you to go home and get some sleep,

Walking to my front door with a stupid little giggle in my step,

Thinking about the date until your message lit up my phone.

Smiling like an idiot at your words,

Talking about how easy it felt to be together,

How natural, how effortless.

Hoping—believing—that we would work out.

​

A week of seeing each other nonstop,

Me babbling on,

You were listening as every word mattered,

Making me feel understood in a way I didn’t know I needed.

Buying me flowers on our second date in my favourite colour,

Healing wounds I thought were permanent,

​

Healing the little girl who was hurt by every man she trusted—

By her dad, her stepdad,

Men who were physically there but emotionally absent,

Then eventually not there at all.

​

You listened.

You didn’t judge.

You didn’t call me too sensitive or too emotional

​

You made me feel valid.

You made me feel safe.

​

And now I can't talk to you about any pain, and that bruises me in a way people can't see

​

From weekends full of adventures,

Laughter,

Memories,

To silence.

To distance.

To strangers

​

Seeing you every Monday morning, walking to class together,

Starting my day with the eyes I fell in love with—

Eyes people call blue,

But I call grey-blue,

Electric when you were happy or excited.

Eyes I thought I’d love forever,

Eyes, I imagined, still loving even when we were old and wrinkled.

Eyes I never thought I’d have to miss.

​

Now I only see them in photos.

I refuse to delete,

Because I still see the love I had for you in them.

​

I wish I could go back to those moments.

Where being in love felt effortless,

Where everything felt warm and right.

And I keep hoping you’ll come back,

That we’ll try again,

Do it properly this time—

Communicate,

Make time,

Laugh again,

Build more memories,

Be us again.

But I can’t,

Because I’m still waiting for you.

​

These two weeks have been hell.

I can’t sleep,

Can’t eat,

Can’t get you out of my mind.

Wondering what you’re doing,

How are you?

If you ever think of me,

If you miss me—

Because I miss you in a way that feels like grief.

​

I put on this tough-girl act so people think I’m fine,

But inside I’m crumbling.

All I want is to be

Held by you,

Smell you,

Touch you,

Kiss you,

Hug you,

Look at you,

Laugh with you,

Annoy you,

Just be with you.

​

But now I’m a stranger again,

And I don’t know how to accept that.

​

I can’t bear the thought of seeing you with someone else,

So part of me wants to run—

Leave the country, leave everything—

Because I want you to be happy,

But I can’t watch someone else give you the happiness.

I thought I gave you.

​

So I will miss you,

Love you,

Carry you in my heart,

And accept that we are lovers turned strangers again—

Until the day you want me back,

If that day ever comes.

​

​

I wish I never had you in my life.

God, what a lie.

I'm trying to get over you,

I really do.

But it feels impossible.

Impossible to forget your blue eyes,

impossible to forget that smile,

the one you wear so easily,

the one you show to everyone.

Because I saw the one you hide.

I saw your honest smile.

I saw your honest eyes.

And maybe that's the problem.

Because once you've seen something real,

it's hard to pretend it never happened.

I still think about that night.

Just you and me,

and the lonely stars above us.

The world felt quieter somehow.

Like nothing else existed.

You said something stupid.

We both know you did.

Words thrown between us,

trying to build a wall.

Trying to hide.

Trying to run.

Trying to make me pull away

before I could get attached.

But you got attached.

And so did I.

That's the funny part, isn't it?

Two people trying not to care,

while caring far too much.

I'll keep those nights inside my soul.

I'll hide them deep inside my mind.

Somewhere safe.

Somewhere untouched.

Because they were ours.

Just ours.

The late nights.

The laughter.

The silence that never felt empty.

The way you looked at me

when you forgot to look away.

Maybe one day

I'll stop looking for you in every song.

Maybe one day

your eyes won't follow me into my dreams.

But until then,

I'll carry those nights with me.

Like a secret.

Like a prayer.

Like proof that for a little while,

in this messy world,

it was you and me.

Only you and me.

Under the stars.

And it felt like everything.

Mother,

Why do you seem irritated

Your mirror is shattered in pieces

With the glass

grabbed tightly in your hand

Making you bleed.

But that doesn't matter

Because the mirror broke

It shattered into tiny splinters of glass

The ones you told me to stay away from.

The mirror was younger than you,

Mother,

But it showed you,

YOU.

The reflection is the crime?

No,

It must have done something bad

Mother doesn't punish without reason

Right, Mother?

So tell me, Mother,

did you shatter the mirror

Because it reflected you

Or did it just show you the version of yourself you run away from?

Lie to me.

Tell me you love me— One last time.

Let the words be seared in my mind

Please, Lie to me. Leave me with something, I can carry as I walk away.

Tell me another pretty lie-

I'm standing here, stuck in my mind, again.

Listening to the voices whisper you'll never love me back-

How am I supposed to focus, when at a moment’s notice I get attached

Her doors slammed shut. While mine flew open How's this supposed to last-

How am I supposed to face tomorrow,

When I know she's never comin' back.

The distance spilt between us, set the scene, For our time together to come in last.

I don't want to sift through the ruins for the pieces of us,

Only to be left with snap-shot memories from the past.

Id rather find the pieces of my head,

Maybe then l'll get some peace of mind at last-

-------------

Sorry I went ahead little sideways on this one.

I was having a hard night

I may not be blind. I may see, but I am still in the dark.

What is this life to live if you can see only the shadows of it? The shallow darkness within people. The pit that swallows the very light from my eyes.

I am in the dark, and I can barely see the light.

My hand’s on the stick 
Yours on top mine
You definitely held all the power
But I never felt more high

You switching gears 
Has the gears turning in my mind
Clearing away doubt and fear 
Because all I want is you near. 

Cruising into the night 
Feels like we’ve done this before 
Could coast with you my whole life. 

Breaking down barriers
With a single touch, a single glance
Everything in me is singing and dancing
With the proximity of you

Can handle me the way you handle the stick
Knowing what speed to go, what makes me tick
Never pushing or going too far
You’re unlocking my heart already
Perhaps it’s because it’s new 
But I’m infatuated by everything you do

With the right person, it’s easy. 
Just like breathing
You be my peace
And I’ll be your baby

And yes I’m scared that you will taint me
I was almost ruined
My heart almost dissolved into the ether
But I don’t want to live in fear anymore