toned down version of my "myhert" poem, because the other had too many outward confrontations and meanings.
there's a chill in the hollow of my chest,
a clawing, an emptiness, where warmth used to be,
like winter moved in and settled,
taking up all the space where i once kept
the fragments of myself.
i am the shadow in someone else's storm,
always there, slipping in and out of darkness,
picking up pieces that fall from hands
not my own, filling cracks in walls
that never sheltered me,
patching wounds i've never bled,
never letting the silence grow.
but when the darkness stretches toward me,
it drifts away, the light retreating
like my sadness is static,
a murmur beneath the brightness
of someone else's world.
no words are spoken,
but in the pull of distance,
in the hush when i am fraying,
i feel it all —
my hurt is a quiet inconvenience,
my breaking, a sound too soft to matter.
and i am selfish, a voice whispers,
or maybe it's me telling myself,
for wanting to slip from the weight,
for craving release from the burden
of carrying a world that's never mine,
for letting the hollow ache feel
like a door.
no one asks what haunts the empty rooms,
no one hears the echoes,
only the silence left behind
as i fade into shadow,
muted beneath the song of brighter things.
i am hollowed out,
a vessel emptied of warmth,
carved by the edges of need,
each piece taken, never returned,
just a deeper, colder hollow,
and i wonder if there's anything left,
or if i am only the ghost of another,
fading, fading,
a shadow in a place
where no light ever reaches.
YOU ARE READING
poems
Poesíapoems i've written. i recommend reading from the bottom of the parts and working up to the first one. i promise they get better and more lengthy. the first few poems are rhyme schemes, the rest are free verse peoms. please don't take without credits...
