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[apoetandyouknowit]

hi.

i write when i can’t speak.

poetry is how i untangle the noise in my head and turn it into something quieter.

sometimes it’s messy, sometimes it’s pretty—either way, it’s mine.

this is where i keep the thoughts that won’t let me go.

[dir3ctedbysofiacoppola]

[apoetandyouknowit]

𝙔𝙤𝙪 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙗𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙝 𝙖𝙛𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙧𝙪𝙣𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜,

𝙉𝙤𝙩 𝙦𝙪𝙞𝙚𝙩—𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙖 𝙙𝙞𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙧𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙙 𝙤𝙛 𝙡𝙤𝙪𝙙.

𝙔𝙤𝙪 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙥𝙚𝙣𝙨 𝙬𝙝𝙚𝙣 𝙣𝙤 𝙤𝙣𝙚’𝙨 𝙬𝙖𝙩𝙘𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜,

𝘼 𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙘𝙖𝙣’𝙩 𝙨𝙞𝙩 𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙡𝙡.

𝙔𝙤𝙪 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙙 𝙩𝙤 𝙘𝙖𝙩𝙘𝙝, 𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙮 𝙩𝙤 𝙛𝙚𝙚𝙡.

𝙄 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙬𝙖𝙮.

𝘼 𝙧𝙪𝙢𝙤𝙧 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙠𝙮, 𝙖 𝙝𝙖𝙗𝙞𝙩 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙛𝙚𝙚𝙩.

𝙔𝙤𝙪 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙢𝙚𝙨𝙨𝙮, 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙤𝙩𝙞𝙘, 𝙖𝙡𝙞𝙫𝙚.

[apoetandyouknowit]

Why would I miss you

when missing you feels like choking on smoke

from a fire you lit

then blamed me for?

You were the storm

that called itself calm.

The chaos that dressed up in “I love you”s

but never meant them.

I gave you pieces

you mistook for scraps.

Called my kindness weakness,

my silence approval.

Now you want memory—

but all I offer is closure.

I don’t miss you.

I miss *me*,

before I ever had to survive you.