Amicablesprite @boggledopath03 - Tumblr Blog

I don't know what it means to be chosen,

or what it feels like to be loved—

when the only romance I have known

was either hunger wearing someone's eyes,

or tenderness arriving too late

as regret.

I learned to mistake being desired

for being held,

and being remembered

for being missed.🙇🏻‍♀️

So now I stand at the threshold of love,

unsure what I am supposed to recognize—

a hand reaching for my body,

or one reaching for my heart

and staying there.

#brokenquill

In my story that idiot was me.....🫠

#thebrokenquill #phoenix

#mystupidheart

I keep my love like a secret room

locked, dim, and guarded from sunlight.

I still feel the shape of you inside me,

but my hands are too tired to hand it over.

Better this small, steady ache than the ruin

of smiling wide and watching myself break.

You taught me how loud the world can be

when it drops someone fragile on the floor.

So I fold my pieces into the quiet,

carry the weight like a hidden stone.

I choose this slow, faithful pain

a silent fortress against the storm

because I cannot, not again, be shattered

and spend my days gathering myself from glass.

#thebrokenquill

Unseen Games

I watch the silence you choose,

threads of presence and absence—

a hand that reaches, then retreats.

Your gestures arrive like shadows,

never enough to hold,

always enough to unsettle.

I stand between anger and ache,

learning that sometimes

the cruelest act

is not words,

but the way you linger

without truly staying.

#thebrokenquill

“In the Forest, I Choose the Bear”

If ever I’m lost in a forest deep,

Where shadows stretch and silence weeps,

And I must walk with only one—

A man, or beast beneath the sun—

I’ll turn my back without despair,

And place my faith in the grizzly bear.

For though its claws may tear the skin,

Its rage is honest, raw within.

It does not promise, does not lie,

Does not smile sweet then wave goodbye.

It will not call my truth “obscure,”

Then shut the door and bolt it sure.

It will not read my soul, then sneer,

Or twist my poems into fear.

You liked the lines I bled for you—

Then claimed you never had a clue.

You took the warmth my hands once gave,

Then buried it like something grave.

You stood beside, but never near,

And flinched the moment I drew near.

You wore your wedding like a shield,

While asking me to never yield.

So if I must choose in the wild alone,

With trees for walls and moss for stone,

Between your silence, sharp and cold,

Or fur and fangs, both fierce and bold—

I’ll take the growl, the primal stare,

I’ll choose the damn bear.

For pain is better when it’s fair,

Than love that hides, then leaves you bare.

At least the bear does not pretend—

It’s not a friend who feigns the end.

A message, clear, but distant too,

Words of work, and boundaries new.

No room for more, just what is right,

A claim of joy, in silent fight.

"I’m happy here, and firm I stand,

A future set, with steady hand."

Respect my space, and let us be,

For what is done, remains to me.

Yet, once more, you cross the line,

Engage again, as if divine.

The boundaries built, now washed away,

In quiet moves, you still will play.

#thebrokenquill

Unseen Applause

He lights the stage, a grand display,

Lifting others, come what may.

Loud cheers, bright lights, a toast so tall,

Hoping she'd watch, hoping she'd fall.

He moves in pride, a careful dance,

Each step designed to steal a glance.

Yet blind to whispers in the air,

Where quiet hands still place him there.

For far away, where he won't see,

She marks his wins—silently.

No envy sparked, no silence torn,

She celebrates where he's not born.

What he calls victory, a game well-played,

Are cadavers of feelings, long decayed.

He mutilates them, grins with glee,

Thinking he's conquered—what? Not me.

#thebrokenquill

I offered you a place so rare,

A refuge built with trust and care.

But fear and pride stood in your way,

So now I walk my own bright day.

#thebrokenquill

Silent Games

You choose the quiet, not the words,

A battle fought but never heard.

A ghost that lingers, fades, returns,

A flicker cold, a flame that burns.

No messages, no lines to trace,

Just empty space in crowded place.

A mind’s duel, a cruel refrain,

Yet silence speaks—just not in vain.

If breaking me is what you seek,

Then hear this truth: I am not weak.

Your games may twist, your silence sting,

But I am more than what you bring.

#thebrokenquill

In silence I stand, my heart holding firm,

While you cast your words, waiting for me to squirm.

A post, a glance, a spark in the air,

Yet I choose not to engage, not to care.

You seek a signal, a hint of my eyes,

Hoping for a response, a spark to rise.

But I've learned your dance, the steps you play,

I see through the veil, I’ll look away.

Your gestures, your silence, the games you weave,

But I’ve grown stronger in what I believe.

No longer a part of your quiet chase,

I walk my own path, I set my own pace.

What is a connection if it's built on this?

Fleeting moments, a hollow kiss.

I stand here still, unshaken, whole,

No longer swayed by what you stole.

So post what you must, seek all you desire,

But I won’t feed the flames of your quiet fire.

My heart knows its worth, its own steady way,

And I’ll walk in the light of a brand new day.

#thebrokenquill

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