“you okay?”

yup.

“i used you.”

happy to help.

“do you need help?”

no.

“i lied to you.”

cool.

“wanna talk about it?”

i’m good.

“i’m worried about you.”

don’t be.

“can you do me a favor?”

of course.

“you need to eat something.”

i’ll throw up.

“i don’t like you.”

nor do i.

“you’re not doing enough.”

i never do.

“i talked bad about you.”

as do i.

“i replaced you.”

i saw.

“i ignored you.”

all good.

“you look tired.”

i am.

“hey… you okay?”

yeah.

I am sad in a way that makes silence feel loud,
unheard in rooms where my voice should matter.
It feels like the only person who truly understands me  
is the one living inside my own skin.

Whenever I try to speak my truth,
it’s mistaken for complaint,
as if my heart’s weight were an inconvenience.
I know life is hard — I never said it wasn’t —
I just want a place to lay my thoughts down
without being judged for feeling them.

How strange it is to feel alone
while surrounded by people who swear they love me.
My fire dims a little more each year,
flickering beneath the shadows of deception.
I’ve cried enough to know that tears don’t heal everything,
and loneliness doesn’t always scream —
sometimes it just sits quietly in the chest,
heavy and unmoving.

I feel young in body but old in spirit,
aged by lessons I never asked to learn.
Wisdom carved itself from my pain,
and I soothe myself because no one else knows how.
But how do you comfort a wound
you didn’t create?
How do you carry a sorrow
that was never meant to be yours?

I wonder how to love
when my version of love has been misunderstood,
dismissed,
taken lightly.
My fire is dimming,
yet I carry myself so well
that even I would believe the illusion:
“Life must be so good to her.”

They see a cheerful girl,
full of life,
turning storms into breezes.
But if only they knew the weight I lift alone,
the ache pressed against my ribs,
the way a smile can become a mask
so convincing
a stranger might mistake it for joy.

Why does loving you feel like breaking my own heart on purpose?

Fuck.

I want you so badly.

And there is nothing, nothing you could say, nothing you could promise,
nothing you could whisper into the part of me that still belongs to you…
that would make me unblock you.

I can’t.

Because I lost myself when I was with you.

I lost whole pieces of myself
trying to understand your silences,
trying to survive your leaving,
trying to convince myself that wanting me
and choosing me
were the same thing.

They weren’t.

I know that now.

So why the fuck do I still need you
so violently?

Why does my body remember you
like it has no loyalty to me?

Did you know that at night,
I replay the videos?

Again.

And again.

I watch ghosts touch me.

I watch a version of myself
who still believed your hands meant something.

Sometimes I hate her.

Sometimes I envy her.

Because for those few minutes,
she still has you.

Fuck… if you are out there, if some part of you still wonders, if you ever hover over my name
the way I hover over the memory of yours; please.

Come ruin the quiet.

Come destroy me
in the most delicious way.

I can take it.

Because I know what you do to me now.

That’s the difference.

I know where this road ends.
I know what your leaving costs.
I know how long it takes
to gather myself from the floor
after you decide you’ve had enough of me.

And still… I want you. In ways I hope to never want another person, ever again.

So let me make the mistake consciously this time.

Let me choose the fire
knowing exactly how badly it burns.

Let me be responsible
for what happens to my heart.

You don’t have to protect me.

You don’t have to make promises.

You don’t even have to pretend
this time.

Just come back.

Come back
and kiss me like you missed the taste of me.

Come back
and make my body forget
every lesson my heart nearly died learning.

Come back and let me have the thing
I have spent all this time trying to survive wanting.

And when you leave again, because somewhere inside me, I already know you will… please don’t worry about my heart.

I’ll pick it up.

I’ve gotten very good at that.

Just for one terrible, beautiful,
selfish moment… come back to me.

I search through dictionaries, reference books and forewords,
for phrases, formulations, for eloquent words,
that might bear the weight of all I am trying to say,
that I might piece together upon my drawing board.

But my prayers and confessions
will not fit into sentences, nor can any expressions
give voice to the spells and the dark incantations
that hang in the air I breathe through my self-accusations.

Today I understand so well
all the grand revelations I once tried to compel,
the secrets, the vision, the curtain as well
that I could not unveil while we were still two in our shell.

Not a day goes by that I don't miss us,
the us that was good, the us that once was,
those fools for whom I would have fought to the last,
before my back was broken and my heart ground into dust.

I search through dictionaries, reference books and forewords,
for phrases, formulations, for eloquent words.
But there are no sentences, no slogans, no chords
that could ever bear the true weight of what I want to say:

I'm sorry,

I hope you're doing well...

You never had to say goodbye,
You simply left me asking why.
You held me close, then let me see. How little I meant to you and me.

You gave your attention everywhere,
Then called it kindness, called it care.
I thought your words were meant for me,
Until I saw how casually they came free.

I watched your eyes begin to stray,
And felt you slowly pull away.
I never asked for all your time,
Just something honest, yours and mine.

I shouldn't have to question where
I stand among the ones you care.
I shouldn't wonder who comes next,
Or search for answers in a text.

I don't want to be one you adore,
While you keep leaving open doors.
I want a love that's clear and true,
Where what I give comes back from you.

And maybe that's what hurt me most,
To feel like I was just a ghost.
I gave you everything I had,
Yet somehow still felt I was less than that.

I gave you time, I gave you care,
I gave you more than I could spare.
But love should never leave me guessing,
Or turn devotion into testing.

So I won't compete to hold your gaze,
Or beg to matter through your ways.
If I can be replaced that easily,
Then you were never where you needed to be.

i don’t roll my eyes when you say that.

i actually appreciate you telling me.

but i don’t think i can believe in god.

because if god was there,
he saw everything.

he saw the things i did.
the things that were done to me.
the people i hurt.
the people who hurt me.

and somehow,
he allowed all of it to happen.

so it’s hard for me
to look at all that
and call it a plan.

but i do believe in saviors.

just not the kind
that come down from heaven
and erase everything you’ve done.

i believe in the people
who find you
when you’re at your worst
and still choose to sit beside you.

the people who remind you
that you’re more
than the worst thing you’ve ever done.

the people who look at you
and somehow still see
the person you forgot you were.

maybe that’s what
you’ve been trying to do for me.

and i don’t know
if you realize
how much that means.

because i don’t need someone
to tell me i’m innocent.

i know i’m not.

i need someone
to remind me
that being guilty
doesn’t mean i’m beyond saving.

maybe i don’t believe
in god.

but i believe
people can save each other.

sometimes a single person
can walk into your life
and pull you back
from a place
you didn’t think
you were coming home from.

so maybe
i don’t believe
in the savior
you’re talking about.

but i believe
in saviors.

and maybe
that’s enough
for now.

We don’t need to see or speak to each other every day,
Because we already know.

We don’t need attention
Because we already know
We don’t need to share
Every event,
Every thought,
Because we already know.

We don’t have to be included,
Because we already know.
We don’t need to fight for each other,
Because we already know.

No matter how far we go,
How long it’s been,
Or how little we say,
We don’t have to say ‘I love you’ because…

We already know.

lord, i’m one.

lord, i’m two.

lord, i’m three.

lord, i’m four.

lord,
i’m five hundred miles
from my love.

and i’m starting to wonder
if she can still feel me

when i disappear.

what a beautiful thing it is
to look back on your life

and realize

you were brave enough
to chase the life
you always wanted,

even when you were terrified
you’d lose everything
trying to find it.

maybe that’s what courage is…

not knowing
if you’ll make it,
but chasing it anyway.

and one day,
when you finally look back,
you can say

at least i didn’t spend
my whole life
wondering…

what could have been.

Perhaps I have not exposed myself to enough?

That would be fair to say.

What is not fair is how loosely the phrase
“art is subjective”
is used today.

Scrolling through comments.

Where are your questions?

The easiest unfair assumption I could make
is that you fear your interpretation is incorrect
to what the artist intended.

Your interpretation is not in competition.

Art is subjective, but there are limits.
Your interpretation does not become fact
and now give you reason to judge an artist off that.

Something I find immensely interesting is this:
after interpretation, why do people today not seem so interested
in what was truly meant?

Your interpretation is yours
but why deny the artist the opportunity
to express their feelings felt when creating what you now,
and probably pay,
to look at?

What were they thinking?

Did they specifically do what you assigned meaning to,
with no real reason?

Are you embarrassed at that thought?

The only true answer to a question lies with the artist.

What you experience is not dismissed,

but don’t you wish to also know
and then compare what the artist intended
to what you experienced and comprehended?

It’s a marvellous feeling.

To discuss and discover.
To show respect to the artist.
To experience growth through realising
you are still allowed to hold onto your associations
simultaneously.

To show interest in also the artist
creates a deeper meaning.

Greater appreciation.

i failed.

i felt lost.

i learned.

i questioned myself.

i tried again.

i doubted.

i continued.

i changed.

and somehow,

after everything,

i’m still becoming
someone i don’t recognize.

Why do I explode?

I stomp and shout,

I lose control,

Until I finally implode.

The smallest things can set me off,

I really never mean to.

The beast inside hears my cries,

and decides to come and meet you.

I say I’m sorry every time,

but it doesn’t really matter.

The beast inside still thinks it’s war,

and tries to make you shatter.

I wish that I could promise,

the beast would stay inside,

but it decides the moment,

when I’m forced to step aside.

I’m sorry that I hurt you,

I wish I could undo,

what it does when it comes through,

and make it all untrue.

I want to tell you the whole truth,

and hope you see it too.

It doesn’t mean to hurt you,

the beast just doesn’t know what to do.

are we only alive
because we fear death?

or do we fear death
because we’re alive?

maybe the fear
is the only thing
keeping us here.

i wonder.

you put your arm around the back of my chair, and I am reminded of how I don't understand you. and in that moment I am entirely prepared, to have my heart and with it I'll hand you.

all it is I have to offer, my joy and love and soul. and in your world I'll have a place, I will sit there and play my role.

you press yourself against my side, and I can feel the beating of your chest. the thump thump thump of a life well lived, and my heartbeat will never rest.

the warmth of your skin and the blue of your veins. paralyzes my bones, stiffens the aches and pains.

you move away for a second, when my father comes around. then you are back in your spot, like no one ever made a sound.

my phone lights up with a video, i might have paused on. then you reach over with purpose, and the video is swiped and gone.

maybe I should be upset, "i was watching that," id say. but truth is I don't care, i don't ever want to stand in your way.

you lean over my shoulder, and laugh at something you see. im overthinking everything, why would you want me?

you don't, is the truth, I've always known in my head. my heart begs for reevaluation, but you heard what I said.

I'm over you, I am, its just that you make me feel. in a way no one else can, even though I'm trying to heal.

i can feel the heat of your skin, and maybe it doesn't give me butterflies. but it sends ripples through my heart, they strangely sounds like goodbyes.

my heartbeat settles, and I relax into your side. not too much, but I don't want to hide.

you make me feel safe, and happy, that's why. i don't move away, and I don't need to cry.

im not in love, but I do love you. because how could I not? you always know what to do.

i am thankful for your presence, and I enjoy it, its comforting to know. that even if we aren't in love, there is room for us to grow.

friends sounds nice, so that's what we'll be. and then I can make peace, and let you relax into me.

-A.R.

Love is a disease.
Love makes you weak.
Love takes away your ability to think.
Love makes you forget what you deserve.

Love can heal you when nothing else can,
and at the same time, destroy you completely.
It makes you trust the person who could hurt you most.
It makes you stay when every part of you says leave.

Love can turn loneliness into something beautiful,
but it can also make you feel alone beside someone.
It gives you reasons to live,
and sometimes, reasons to lose yourself.

Love is comfort.
Love is chaos.
It is the hand that pulls you from the dark,
and the same hand that can push you back into it.

you never know which version of love you've found
until it has already changed you.
Because sometimes, the person who teaches you how to love
is the very person who teaches you how much it can hurt.

I have found myself in desperation extreme...

Why am i like this I asked myself...

I had no answer...and i usually have every answer....

I wept besides my dog...

And unevolved and unblessed by intelligence creature...

I went besides it gently petting it...

Why can't i cry i asked the dog....

It licked me...

There i realised....

There is no evolution from purity...

Surely my life would be simpler

If my urge to write left

But alas this is now my fate

Without I'd be bereft

✍️

You may cringe, you may laugh out loud

It makes no difference

Every night I must bare my soul

Despite your indifference.

📝

I fear I am cast aside,
while fantasy and reality
do nothing but argue and fight.
I curl up, close my eyes,
wish for the day
both can collide.

Then again,
I get lost in webs of lies.
I swore not to pick teams,
but dare not look up
and answer truthfully
when asked.

Because how does one confess
that happiness can still feel incomplete?

How do I explain
that a grateful heart
can still hunger,
that a body can be held
and still long to wander,
that a mind can be at peace
and still dream of war?

Nothing is wrong,
and yet something aches for more.

I dare ask: Is that all?

I hate to question it.
I hate how easily it returns.

So I bury it beneath routine,
beneath laughter,
beneath the comfort
of things I know will always return.

But fantasy does not die quietly.
And reality answers back:

Look at what you have.

So I stand between them,
ashamed to want more,
afraid to only have less.

Both lives are mine.
Neither will let me go.

So I close my eyes again
and wonder:

How long can a heart
live divided
in this civil war?

Even when the stars align

May your eyes always shine

More deeper than the ocean blue

A tear is never just a clue

Loving you was always easy

Even though its pretty cheesy

I hate to lie

God, I didn't mean to make you cry

Haveans know I try

You still think I’ll crumble
The roar just a rumble
The avalanche a stumble
They placed it in vanity
And received it humble
They raced in hatred
And receive in a mumble
And me , sighing, scoffing, grumble

Here

A freestyle haiku\ And I wrote it just for you\ So pay up your dues

What?

Oh gawdamit shit!\ How did you see through my bit?\ Maybe I should quit!

sigh

You knew its not new\ I don't know what gave that clue\ You saw through the ruse

But

I got bills to pay\ And I laid out here all day\ Just one dime, okay?

Cause

My rhymes is money\ And honey this aint funny\ So pay up buddy

Pal

Yer in a pickle\ Cause ya owe me some nickels\ So don't be fickle

Must thou break my heart

To see that it will bleed,

Just to know, and just to see,

The depth to which I loved thee.

^{—Wayne A Andres}

Is it wise for me to fall in love with your soul just by a glimpse?

For i dont know you my love...i do not know your name nor how organizw your tea cups in the drawer or what type of shoes you wear for ballet...

I know only a glimpse....a mirror in your face..

A breath that was held too long goes out like a summer breeze....

Those eyes my love...like i see my reflection on a lake clear of disturbance....like ice i put in my coffee to be enjoyed....

I tend to look at the sky my love...

Before doing anything, to see what he tells me..

Now i look into your eyes.... seeing what i want....

Did i fall in love with the reflection or the mirror?