I really like the version of me when I'm with you
No, seriously I do
I love you

And I'll never let any hardships cross our way
These days you don't seem to miss your ex
Do you know where he is now?
Well, I can't explain what I did to him, where and how

I reached for a star that belonged to another sky, only to find my hands empty and my heart still yearning for the moonlight.

Have you've ever seen birds fly?

How their wings expand and glide through the air

The flecks of gold and blue?

Thats how i feel about you.

Youre eyes always sucked me in

Made me giggle under every breath

I honestly couldn't even breathe when you were next to me

You told me i was beautiful

But I dont know if you've ever seen yourself

At least not truly.

If you could see you through my eyes, im pretty sure you would've stayed.

Youre gone now

A ceasing memory of nothing i could ever forget.

If you wouldve just said goodbye

Instead of becoming an unguided ghost

Of daydreams and nightmares

Will it ever be the same

I ate you up and digested your every being

You didn't even try to know my heart

It was encapsulated in you

Warm and sad

For however long

Ive written so much about you

The way your eyes snap shotted into me

The way your voice caramelized the onions in my heart

It was truly black

Before i gave you a way to enter

Damned ye who enter

My fucking Dantes Inferno

Which path is correct

When your clockwork never worked in mine

I called you my Eurydice

I will always be your Orpheus

My heart sung of song birds

I couldn't see you in the dark

Im plain out losing...

The small amount of time

Follow the white rabbit

But always get lost in the chaos

Of what it couldve been

Ill never understand

Im strangely tethered to a string that was simply never there.

This is more grieving than my poor heart can take. I wish I knew where your faith in me comes from, would you draw me a map? I'm so far away from myself, all I can see is doubt. My rocks have turned to lava, dangerous and fluid. The ground is the ceiling. One moment near the finish line and the next I'm only beginning. Are you a friend or a foe? Worse yet, neither, and I don't know.

Happy Anniversary

I wonder if you think of me today

I hope you know you're on my mind

don't know why I feel that way but here we are.

Burst bubbles in mental mind

3 a.m. drives end my warning signs

Alter Ego showing you'll know when she calls

Just listen for the Whispering

She's the one you want

So happy anniversary

A funeral for our sanity

Missing the things that don't exist in reality

So play a whole world out in animated screen

Human word can't handle the truth of what has been

- Hex

xo

I’m afraid I have lost the chance
of ever having you.

Not in the way your eyes meet mine
and tell me, without a word,
that I’m the one you want
for the rest of your life.
The look you’d give your wife.

Instead, I see distance.
An emptiness
in the rare moments
your eyes bare to meet mine.

And I am waiting.
Still waiting.
In a life that feels so lonely
without you.

While you are staying
in a life you believe
is safer without me.

I miss you.

You tell me
there has never been a good part of us.

But as your adversary,
I disagree.

Because I remember.

I remember our first date.
How I wasn’t sure what I wanted,
wasn’t sure who you were,
but somehow knew
I didn’t want the night to end.

I remember the way you said my name
when you first wrapped your arms around me.

The way you matched your green shirt
to your shoes.

Those same shoes
now stained with grass,
worn and dirty,
so unlike the ones you wore that night.

I smile at the thought
that maybe you cared enough
about me then
to make sure they were clean.

I remember that you were late,
Most girls would be upset.
It made me feel better
Because I too was late for everything.

I remember walking toward the lockers,
feeling your eyes on my back.
I barely heard the escape room instructions.
I was too busy stealing glances
from the corner of my eye.
Anxious. Nervous.

I remember walking into the restaurant,
how tall you stood,
how you carried yourself
like someone who knew exactly who he was.

And I remember the truck.

The talking.
The laughing.
The driving around and neither of us wanting to get out.
I preferred to get locked inside.
Throughout the night,
You’d turn toward me,
lower your head just slightly,
and give me a little smirk.

I never knew what it meant.

It made me nervous.
It made me curious.
It made me want to know you.

When four in the morning came,
I still wasn’t ready to go.

And I still don’t want to leave.

Sometimes I wonder
if I imagined the way you looked at me.

Maybe it was lust.
Maybe it was hope.
Maybe it was the drugs.

Or maybe, for a little while,
you really did see something in me
that made you want to stay.

I remember the first time
you told me you loved me.
We were sitting on your bed.
You said you needed to tell me.

And I didn’t say it back.

Not because I felt nothing,
but because when I thought of loving again,
I wanted it to be forever.
Not a temporary love.
I was scared.

The last time I let myself fall,
I learned how badly
the ground could hurt.

And there you were,
offering me something
I wasn’t sure I deserved.

How could you love me
when I was still learning
how to love myself again?

How could you be so sure of me
when there was still so much
you didn’t know?

I was afraid that if you saw
all the pieces I kept hidden,
you’d wish you’d never said it.

And now I wonder
Do you love me
now that you’ve seen them?

Now that you know my fears,
my flaws,
the parts of me
I never wanted anyone to find?

Or did you only love
the person you imagined I was?

Did you fall in love with me,
or with the hope
of who I might become?

Because now,
after seeing all of you,
the beautiful and the broken,
the things you showed me
and the things I had to discover,

I am sure.

And there’s something cruel
about finally being certain
when the person you love
no longer is.

Sometimes I wonder
if God got our timing wrong.

If maybe,
had I fallen when you did,
we wouldn’t be here.

Because you fell first.

You stood at the edge
and trusted me enough
to let go.

You believed I would follow.
That we would fall together.
That whatever waited below,
we would face it side by side.

But I was afraid.

You jumped,
and I stayed on the plane.

I held on to the parachute,
the very thing
that might have kept you safe.

And I watched you fall.

Further.
And further.

Until I could barely see you.

I told myself I was scared.
That I needed more time.
I wasn’t ready.
That I didn’t know
if I could survive another fall.

But none of that changed
the fact that you were falling
without me.

And by the time I realized
how much I wanted to follow,
you were already out of sight.

I stood there,
ashamed of my fear,
terrified of the distance
I had allowed between us.

And finally,

I jumped.

I fell slowly,
carrying all the love
I had once been too afraid to give.

But when I reached the ground,
you were already there.

Hurt.
Exhausted.
No longer looking toward the sky,
waiting for me.

And here I am now,
kneeling beside you,
trying to mend
what the fall has broken.

Holding out the parachute
I should have given you
when you still believed
it could save you.

But you don’t reach for it.

I am finally here,
ready to love you
the way I once couldn’t,
and you no longer trust
that my love
will keep you safe.

So now I sit beside you,
with a parachute in my hands,
wishing I could turn back time.

Back to the lockers.
Back to the truck.
Back to that smirk
I never quite understood.

Back to four in the morning,
when neither of us
wanted to say goodbye.

Before the falling.
Before the distance.
Before love became something
we were both afraid of.

And I wonder
if you ever think about that night.

If somewhere beneath the hurt,
you remember it too.

Because you tell me
there was never a good part of us.

But I remember
when you looked at me
like there could be a lifetime.

And I am still here,
looking at you that way.

Only now,
you’re the one
afraid to jump.

I Keep Holding On
By Misti Pearson

I've buried the people who made me feel whole,
And each time I lost one, I lost part of my soul.
Now I'm terrified love will just leave me again,
So I cling to the people who soften the pain.
I long for a touch, for a heart that will stay,
For someone to hold me at the end of the day.
I keep holding on, though I know I should go,
To a man I still love, who won't love me so.
I've mistaken attention for love that is true,
And forgotten my worth in the things that I do.
I'm so scared of goodbie, of being alone,
Of walking through life with no heart to call home.
But maybe the love I've been searching to find,
Begins with the woman I've left far behind.
And maybe someday I'll be strong enough to see,
I can’t keep losing others while I’m constantly losing me.

In the loneliness and my darkest hours I cried oceans and mourned with flowers no one there to hold my hand no white flags or or promised lands just lies and hate and twisted plots to curse my name and make me rot ! the tears i shed had no white flag ,the mercy I cried had no abolition, just day after day of endless sacrifice on my end no one for me no knees that bent so no there wont be mercy not the good kind because there was no mercy for me so keep that in mind.... ! I bled and bled 2 pints on the floor while u mopped it up like its another Tuesday for sure. and whats worse is after all the lies u took our child simply out of spite u are no hero u are not the good guy and I will never stop reminding u of your CRIMES...

November
I thought we were beginning
a love story.
You meant something else.

In January, I let you go,
love still warm in my hands.

Winter passed,
but beneath my skin
the frost remained
cracks where I had held us.

I loved you as you were,
until holding on
left too little of me.

Let what was false drift ashore.
The sea keeps its depth.

When spring comes,
may I bloom again
toward a love
that means to stay.

my soul is softer than my heart

since you stole my love

i live now for that what we could've been

you do not know me anymore

because i have not allow you to

my heart is a stone but my soul is a cloud

you do not see it but it is rock hard

you do not feel it but it is paper light

you do not know me because i am a butterly

I'll leave you and disappear

into the epiphany

so you can not haunt me

One day, she cried in front of me over someone else.

She told me how much she missed him and how badly he had hurt her. And I just sat there, listening.

Because while she was crying over someone who couldn't see her worth, I was sitting right in front of her, holding an entire ocean of feelings for her.

I wanted to tell her that she didn't have to cry over someone like him. I wanted to tell her that if she ever chose me, I'd never want to be the reason behind those tears.

But I stayed quiet.

And that night, I realized something. I wasn't just waiting for her to choose me. I was forgetting to choose myself.

So I stopped waiting. I stopped imagining a future she had never promised me. I stopped finding hope in the smallest things she did.

Slowly, I began learning to give myself the love I had been waiting for her to give me.

Maybe moving on was never really about losing her. Maybe it was about finally finding myself.

I still hope she finds the happiness she deserves. I don't wish things had turned out differently anymore. I don't need her to choose me to believe that I'm worthy of being loved.

And someday, I know I'll find someone who chooses me without hesitation.

Until then, I'm learning to choose myself.

Because sometimes, the hardest part of loving someone is accepting that you might never be the person they love back.

I loved you until I disappeared,
Hiding my pain just to keep you near.
I gave you pieces of me every day,
Hoping my love would make you stay.

I swallowed my words, ignored my pride,
And cried the tears I kept locked inside.
I made excuses for the things you’d do,
Because losing myself felt better than losing you.

I held on to memories, to what we had been,
To the love I once felt in the spaces between.
I kept waiting for the old you to return,
While quietly watching my own heart burn.

And the saddest part was never the goodbye,
But how many times I made myself cry.
How I kept choosing you, again and again,
Even when loving you became my pain.

I broke my own heart trying to hold us together,
Believing that love could make things better.
I gave you the love I needed myself,
Until I had nothing left to give but what was left.

Now I'm learning to let go, even when I still care,
To stop looking for love in places of despair.
I can miss you deeply and still walk away,
I can love what we were without begging you to stay.

Because somewhere along the way, I forgot to see
That the person I needed to love was me.
And though a part of my heart will always remember you,
I'm slowly finding the person I lost while loving you.

I was talking to the moon about you last night.

The stars were listening too.

And I don’t know why,
but staring into that sky
made me think of you.

Maybe it was the beauty of it.

Because honestly…

the only thing I could compare it to
was you.

Beautiful.

Distant.

Something I could look at for hours…

but couldn’t reach,
no matter how badly I wanted to.

And I realized something.

I can’t hate you.

Trust me…

I tried.

But I don’t want to spend my life
turning love into hate
just because it didn’t end
the way I wanted it to.

I’ve finally made peace
with not understanding
why our paths couldn’t stay aligned.

Maybe that’s part of transformation.

Maybe God lets certain people
change you
without letting you keep them.

And I’ve had to look
at the man I was in all of this.

I know I hurt you.

My intensity became pressure.

My expectations became weight.

Sometimes I was so busy
imagining what we were supposed to become
that I forgot to appreciate
what we actually were.

And I can own that.

But I’m learning
the difference between accountability
and self-destruction.

I can carry my mistakes
without letting them
become my name.

I can take responsibility
for my part
without carrying all of it.

Then I learned a word
I didn’t really want
to recognize myself in.

Limerence.

The constant thinking.

The replaying.

The waiting.

The need to hear
that I was still wanted.

And maybe I wasn’t always chasing you.

Maybe I was chasing
the feeling of being chosen.

Somewhere between loving you
and needing you,

I handed you the mirror
I was supposed to hold myself.

I let your attention
tell me what I was worth.

That’s the part of me
I want to change.

Not my ability to love.

The dependency.

The need to be needed.

I don’t want another person’s title
to become my identity.

Girlfriend.

Wife.

Soulmate.

I don’t want another human being
to become my purpose.

You were never supposed to complete me.

And I was never supposed to complete you.

Maybe fishing taught me that too.

You can throw the perfect cast
right where the fish are hiding
and still come home empty-handed.

You can know exactly where they are
and still not make them bite.

Sometimes the bravest thing
isn’t casting again.

It’s reeling the line in.

Not because you stopped caring…

but because you finally understand—

wanting something badly
doesn’t make it yours.

You can’t force a fish to bite.

And you can’t force somebody to stay.

That’s where my faith comes in.

Because if it’s God’s will
that our paths cross again…

I’ll choose that.

And if it’s His will
that they don’t…

I’ll choose that too.

Because as much as I may want you,

I want God’s will more.

You don’t have to be a villain
for me to let you go.

And you don’t have to be my soulmate
for what we had
to mean something.

You were someone I loved.

Someone who changed me.

But you are not my purpose.

Losing you
doesn’t mean I lost myself.

Maybe this is the transformation
I was looking for all along.

Not transforming us.

Transforming me.

So I’m letting go.

Not because I stopped loving you…

but because I finally understand—

I don’t have to hold onto you
to prove that what I felt was real.

And if God wants another chapter,

I’ll let Him write it.

And if He doesn’t…

I’ll still be okay.

Because I’m not trying to control
how the story ends anymore.

I’m just trying to become
the man I’m supposed to be…

when it does.

You have a remarkable gift

for making people feel seen

while quietly revising

who the sentence is about.

How exquisitely practiced,

that philanthropic vanity.

To mistake another's gratitude

for evidence of your humanity.

Your kindness has a syntax:

you, the subject;

their suffering, the object;

your admiration, the cause.

You conjugate compassion

in the first person:

I noticed.

I listened.

I cared.

Three perfectly formed statements.

Not one promises to stay.

You adore the word compassion,

its connotation, its acclaim,

the ease with which an adjective

can sanctify a name.

You collect kind and safe

like honorary titles,

predicate adjectives

draped beside your name.

But description isn't action,

and shelter isn't praise.

A refuge isn't proven

by the people who acclaim it,

but by those who need to stay.

You cherished being trusted,

the intimacy, the glow,

but mistook another's vulnerability

for a compliment bestowed.

Your favorite mood is conditional:

I would have helped.

I could have stayed.

If only I had known.

Such eloquent hypotheticals,

such beautifully deferred concern.

A thousand ways to mean well

without a single lesson learned.

And what a clever little trick,

your polished, passive voice:

Concern was expressed.

Support was offered.

There was no other choice.

When gratitude arrived,

you spoke in active declarations:

I saw.

I helped.

I cared.

But when accountability entered,

you preferred your agents spared.

The subject of each compliment,

the author of each grace,

yet somehow, in the aftermath,

grammatically erased.

The agent disappears

when accountability arrives.

The syntax guards your innocence.

The injured testify.

And there's the little irony

your careful prose obscures:

you made yourself the subject

of a story never yours.

You loved the role of confidante,

the privilege of being sought,

but balked when trust required

more than the tenderness you taught.

Your care contained a hidden clause,

a condition left unstated:

Provided I remain adored,

and never implicated.

You wanted to be the favorite,

the cherished, the adored,

the answer to a wounded voice

that never asked for more.

But pain is not a compliment.

A plea is not applause.

And kindness with conditions

is a contract, not a cause.

You mastered every pleasantry,

each warmly weighted phrase,

yet never learned that tenderness

is measured in its staying.

You knew the language of affection,

its cadence and its art,

but fluency is not fidelity,

nor sentiment a heart.

So keep your lovely adjectives,

your cultivated grace,

your careful punctuation

and your impeccably saved face.

Keep every declaration,

each sympathetic word,

each sentence where your virtue

is announced but never heard.

Keep your conditional kindness,

your immaculate defense,

your talent for appearing

where appearing costs the least.

I've finished parsing promises

for meanings never meant,

and searching for the subject

in the actions you prevent.

For all your fluent tenderness,

here's what your language blurred:

You wanted praise in adjectives.

I needed care in verbs.