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i asked you not to do it again.

that was all.

just this one thing.

please don’t disappear.

and you looked at me through a screen,

through an ocean,

through thousands of miles of hope,

and you said you wouldn’t.

"I won't"

you even told me

you wouldn’t blame me

for having trust issues after the first time.

because you knew.

you knew exactly what disappearing had done to me.

so i believed you.

again.

i let someone back into a room

they had already set on fire once before.

because that’s the problem with my heart,

it sees ashes

and still imagines a home.

you opened up to me.

you explained yourself.

i understood.

of course i understood.

i always understand.

i miss people before they’re gone.

i forgive them while they’re still apologizing.

i build bridges for people

who keep proving they’re happier swimming away.

and then we laughed again.

we called again.

we facetimed again.

we played games until i forgot

what it felt like to be abandoned.

we planned flights.

actual flights.

dates.

prices.

crossing the fucking atlantic ocean.

i was ready to spend hundreds of dollars

and over 10 hours in transit

just to stand in front of you

and prove something that should have already been obvious:

i was never going to leave.

i wanted to show you

that love did not have to be destruction.

that someone could know your worst parts

and still choose you.

that someone could love you

without asking you to earn it.

that someone could look at every scar

and say,

i’m staying anyway.

and within twenty-four hours after exchanging flight information,

you vanished.

again.

not with a goodbye.

not with honesty.

not with fear explained.

just absence.

the kind so complete

it starts convincing you

you imagined the entire relationship.

did i hallucinate the future?

did i invent the notes in your phone?

did i make up the way you said

you’d told your parents about me?

your friends about me?

because how can someone speak so passionately

about tomorrow

and then refuse to acknowledge today?

i sent you every truth i had.

i told you exactly how this hurt.

exactly how confusing it was.

exactly how i would still let you back in

despite every warning sign screaming at me not to.

you read it.

and then gave me silence.

seven days now.

seven days of refreshing apps.

seven days of checking if maybe today

you’ll remember i exist.

seven days of hoping the next vibration of my phone

belongs to you.

people would probably call me foolish.

they would say,

“have some self-respect.”

as if loving deeply

and respecting yourself

cannot exist inside the same body.

but here’s the truth i’m too embarrassed to admit:

if your name appeared on my screen right now,

my heart would outrun my dignity.

and i hate that.

i hate that after all this,

i still only want you.

i hate that every text from someone else

feels like static.

that every conversation is missing your accent.

that every joke feels slightly less funny

because i imagined telling it to you first.

there is an emptiness inside me

shaped exactly like your absence.

and yet another truth lives beside it:

i do not want a love

that requires me to survive ghostings.

i do not want a future

where every period of silence

makes me wonder if i’ve been abandoned again.

i do not want to beg someone

to choose communication

when i have handed them honesty

over and over and over again.

i don’t want to spend my life

proving that i’m worth staying for.

because i already stayed.

twice.

i forgave.

twice.

i believed.

twice.

i loved loudly enough

to cross an ocean.

and somehow

i am still the one left wondering

if i wasn’t enough.

maybe the cruelest thing about hope

is that it survives evidence.

it survives unread messages.

it survives broken promises.

it survives ghostings.

it survives the impossible.

it keeps whispering,

maybe tomorrow.

and i am so tired

of waking up

still believing it.

because i know what i deserve.

i deserve someone who does not make disappearing

their native language.

someone who says,

“i’m scared,”

instead of leaving me alone to translate silence.

someone who chooses honesty

over ambiguity,

communication

over vanishing,

presence

over potential.

but god,

there is still a part of me

that checks my phone

hoping to see your name.

and i think that is the hardest grief of all:

not losing you,

but losing the version of myself

who believed

that this time,

when you promised you wouldn’t leave,

you meant it.

#emotions #feelings #poem #poetic #poetry #sad poem #sad poetry #spilled emotions #spilled thoughts #writing

you told me you missed me

before we had even met.

you said it first.

not me.

you.

you said,

“the fact i’m genuinely picturing a future

with a girl who i’ve not even met yet has me excited."

you said,

“i already consider you mine,"

you said,

“i’m actually obsessed with you.”

and every time we facetimed,

you looked at me like i was something worth keeping.

beautiful, you’d say.

beautiful

like it was the easiest truth in the world.

you told me,

“i look forward to everything and nothing with you so much.”

everything and nothing.

god.

how does someone say things like that

and then become silent enough

to make another person question their worth?

how do you build a future in someone’s chest

and then vanish from it completely?

because now look at me.

i am the one speaking into emptiness.

the one double-texting.

the one leaving voice messages

that sit unopened like abandoned packages.

i am the one risking humiliation.

i am the one who looks pathetic now.

a girl unable to swallow her feelings quietly enough

to seem unaffected.

meanwhile you were the one

making lists in your phone

of the things we’d do together.

you were the one planning the trip.

you were the one trying to come here

as soon as possible.

you were the one who turned

thousands of miles

into something that felt touchable.

so tell me

how does it end with me being ignored?

how does it always end this way?

i keep wondering

if it was love bombing.

and maybe it was.

maybe you just know exactly how to create closeness

without intending to stay long enough

to maintain it.

if that’s true, then holy hell,

you are good at it.

too good.

and i wish, selfishly, desperately,

that you had not done it

to someone who would have loved you gently.

because i would have.

god, i would have.

you would have never had to question

whether you were appreciated.

i would have loved you loudly.

openly.

in every small thing.

in every remembered detail.

every exhausted day after work.

every dumb joke repeated until it stopped being funny.

every future version of you.

and maybe that’s what hurts most:

you found someone willing to love you tenderly

and treated her like she was disposable anyway.

i hope one day

you regret it.

i hope one night

you lie awake staring at the ceiling

and you think about me.

about us.

about the messages.

the inside jokes beginning to form.

the chemistry that somehow crossed oceans

and made us feel close enough

to plan a future.

i hope it sneaks up on you unexpectedly.

while watching something we talked about.

while hearing a phrase i used too often.

while scrolling through old messages

you swore didn’t matter anymore.

because i cannot understand

how you walked away so easily.

does getting to know me more

always lead to loving me less?

am i only exciting

until i become real?

will i always be too much?

too emotional.

too expressive.

too prone to thinking before i speak.

too honest about how deeply i care.

i keep replaying the timeline.

one week ago

i felt like i was flying.

now i feel erased.

you downloaded hinge again.

and maybe to you

that meant almost nothing.

but to me

it felt like watching someone replace me

before the wound had even stopped bleeding.

just another girl now.

another profile.

another almost.

another whatever.

meanwhile i am still here

mourning something brief

like it was eternal.

and maybe that sounds ridiculous.

but some people arrive in your life

with the emotional force of years

even if they only stay days.

a short infinity.

that’s what we were.

or at least

that’s what i thought we were.

do you lie awake thinking about it too?

do you miss me at all?

do you remember how easily we laughed together?

or have you already folded me away

into some unreachable corner of your memory

where forgotten girls go to disappear?

because i cannot seem to do the same to you.

i can never regret caring too much.

i refuse to become someone smaller

just because softness hurts.

but god

it is agonizing

to always be the one who cares more.

to love like you are handing someone

your beating heart with both hands,

only for them to hold it

like it is the easiest thing

they have ever let go of.

#emotions #feelings #poem #poetic #poetry #sad poem #sad poetry #spilled emotions #spilled thoughts #writing #spilled ink #literature

what are you playing?

what are you watching?

did work exhaust you today?

what did you have for dinner?

did you laugh at something on your ride home?

i miss your laugh.

did you think of me at all?

i ask these questions

knowing i will never receive answers.

still, i ask them.

and when you view my story,

with such rarity that it's actually maddening,

my entire body floods with hope

so quickly it feels chemical.

as if your name in the viewer list

isn’t just an accidental movement

of your thumb.

as if following me now

means anything more

than the dozens of other girls

stacked inside your following tab.

over a week ago

you deleted the dating app after we matched.

today i checked again.

you're back on it.

and i swear

i felt something eclipse inside me.

like darkness physically folding itself

over my heart.

the tears arrive first in my throat,

sharp and burning,

before they ever reach my eyes.

because how do we become strangers

again this quickly?

how do we go from laughing for hours,

planning your visit,

making notes in your phone

about things we wanted to do together

to this?

to me staring at my screen

like it’s a graveyard

waiting for something to resurrect.

you made space for me in your future.

or at least

you spoke like you did.

and now i cannot reconcile

the boy who stayed up playing games with me until morning

with the one who ignores my messages

like they weren't written by human hands.

how do you not care?

how do you not care whatsoever?

how are you back on the app

looking for somebody new

while i am still standing

inside the wreckage

of conversations that haven’t even cooled yet?

and why do i care so much?

why am i the one

sending texts into silence,

voice messages left unheard,

pieces of myself arriving unopened

like letters mailed to an abandoned house?

it is humiliating

how badly i want to be acknowledged.

because your silence is not quiet.

it is crickets burrowing into my skin.

it is the ringing aftermath of an explosion.

it is deafening.

only days ago

i woke up daily excited to speak to you.

now every morning feels like

checking whether a wound

has stopped bleeding yet.

and maybe this is what destroys me most:

not that you left,

but how easily you did it.

like setting something down

and simply never thinking about it again.

meanwhile i am here

memorizing the shape of your absence,

refreshing apps,

checking statuses,

collecting microscopic signs of your existence

like a starving person gathering crumbs.

why do i always care

like my heart was built without skin?

why do you never care

at all?

#emotions #feelings #poem #poetic #poetry #sad poem #sad poetry #spilled emotions #spilled thoughts #writing #spilled ink #literature

is it better to speak

or to die?

i ask myself this

with my thumbs hovering

over the text box

like two trembling saints

praying over a grave.

because silence feels fatal to me.

not the quiet kind,

not peaceful silence,

not the soft hush of sleeping beside someone

who already understands you,

i mean this silence.

this deliberate absence.

this being ignored so completely

that it begins to erase your outline.

you disappear a little

when someone refuses to answer.

and meanwhile my mind

becomes a flooded room.

every thought climbing onto furniture

trying not to drown:

send the paragraph.

send another.

tell him everything.

tell him how badly this hurts.

tell him you miss him.

tell him you’re sorry.

tell him you care.

tell him you are still here.

because if i do not speak,

where does all this feeling go?

it swells in my throat

until breathing itself feels conditional.

i think perhaps

speaking and dying

might be dangerously similar things.

to speak

is to risk humiliation,

rejection,

being perceived as too much,

too emotional,

too soft,

too loud in your loving.

but to not speak,

to bury every desperate sentence alive

inside your chest,

what is that

if not another kind of death?

how will they know

unless we tell them?

even if they do not care to know.

even if the messages arrive

like rain against locked windows.

even if they read every word

with the detached glance

of someone already halfway gone.

how will they know?

i want to empty myself completely.

i want to pour every feeling

into the text box

until my mind finally unclenches,

until my lungs exhale

for the first time in days,

until i can say:

there.

i loved loudly.

i did not hide.

i did not make myself smaller

to seem easier to abandon.

because maybe i am embarrassing.

maybe i am weak

for wanting reassurance

with the desperation of prayer.

maybe i care too much.

maybe i always will.

but what is the alternative?

to become cold?

measured?

unreadable?

to love with an indoor voice

so nobody gets uncomfortable?

no.

i want my love to arrive

like weather.

i want it visible from miles away.

i want it spilling out of my pores.

i want the people i love

to never question whether they were loved.

and if that ruins me,

if being tender destroys me,

then at least i will know

i did not die withholding.

still, i can never decide

which wound hurts less:

the agony of speaking

and being ignored,

or the agony of silence

while every unsent sentence

rots inside me.

is it better to speak

or to die?

i have spent my whole life

failing to choose correctly.

because every time someone leaves,

i become a cathedral

full of unanswered prayers,

and every prayer sounds like:

please,

just let me say one more thing.

you were one face

in the endless deck of maybe,

but somehow

the only boy i even matched with.

the only one worth liking.

past all the recycled bios,

gym mirror photos,

forced jokes copied from somewhere else,

there you were.

and from the very first message,

you felt different.

not rehearsed.

not hollow.

not like someone i had to dilute myself for.

you matched me.

line for line.

joke for joke.

energy for energy.

and after loving someone

who knew exactly where to press

to make me ache,

after dragging myself out

of something that called itself love

while teaching me pain by memory,

you felt medicinal.

a perfect pick-me-up

wearing a perfect accent,

laughing through lungs

i wished you treated kinder,

voice notes becoming calls,

calls becoming video chats

where hours dissolved unnoticed

while we gamed together

and laughed together

and built tiny future-tense promises:

we should play this next time,

we should watch this together,

we should go there when we meet.

we should.

and my heart, traitor that it is,

started furnishing rooms

inside a house that wasn’t built yet.

then i said something.

just one thing.

a comment tossed carelessly

like a lit match

into dry grass.

and suddenly the season changed.

the warmth disappeared so fast

i still replay the exact moment

like security footage after a robbery.

why did i say that?

why can’t i think before i speak?

why do i always hand people

the exact sentence capable

of making them leave?

at first you said

you needed time to think,

which is hope in its cruelest form.

because hope stretches.

hours into days.

days into silence.

silence into something so loud

it drowns every rational thought i have.

now my phone glows with nothing.

no text messages.

no voice notes.

no missed calls.

just absence.

and isn’t it humiliating

how quickly someone can become

a grief?

how a person you barely held

can still leave fingerprints

all over your life?

I knew you for such a short time,

yet somehow

i’ll still mourn your silence for longer

than the feelings i held for you existed in their fullness.

because you felt necessary.

because you arrived exactly

when i was trying to remember

what it felt like

to be wanted gently.

and maybe that’s why this hurts so much:

you were proof

that after all that damage,

i could possibly still flutter.

still hope.

still imagine somebody choosing me.

now i keep bargaining

with a past only minutes old.

If i hadn’t made that comment.

if i’d paused first.

if i’d been quieter.

but love

cannot survive only the versions of us

that never misspeak.

still, knowing that

doesn’t stop me

from staring into the deafening silence

and wishing, desperately,

for one more notification

from the only person

who felt like more than a match.

soul-from-another-era

Unconditional love isn't a free pass to hurt me.

i want a love that listens.

not just hears,

but leans in,

eager to know the things

that make me me.

i want him to watch my favorite shows

not because he loves them,

but because he loves the way i light up

when i talk about them.

because hearing my voice

feels like coming home.

i want him to let me rant,

to hold space for my storms,

to treat every wild, messy word i speak

like a sermon

from the only truth that matters.

i want him to stare.

not because i’m flawless,

but because in all my imperfection,

i am his favorite work of art.

i want his love

loud.

undeniable.

so big it leaves no room for doubt,

no quiet corners where insecurity can fester.

i want him to look at me

like i’m the one thing he could never survive losing.

i want to be his fear and his faith

all at once.

i don’t want to be perfect.

i want to be real.

raw.

chaotic.

and still,

still

have him hold me like i’m holy.

like the quote says:

“now that you don’t have to be perfect, you can be good.”

i want to be good.

good enough.

and for him to see that goodness

and call it precious.

i want his love to be uncontainable.

the kind that spills out,

wild and untamed,

like weeds cracking through concrete,

like the world couldn’t stop it even if it tried.

but god,

what if i’m dreaming?

what if i’m building a cathedral

on foundations he never laid?

what if i’m standing in a love

that only exists

in my heart?

he says he loves me.

but softly,

quietly,

with all the volume turned down.

and i need love that shouts.

that screams.

i don’t want to be unsure.

but he doesn’t make it easy.

and i can’t tell

if i’m loving for the both of us,

or if he’s just not loving at all.

i don’t want a love that waits.

i want a love that races.

a love with shaking hands,

a pulse that skips

when i don’t answer right away.

i want him to want to call me,

to need to call me,

to feel a hollow ringing in his chest

when my name doesn’t light up his screen.

i want his care to ache,

to twist in his stomach

if he hasn’t heard my voice by nightfall.

i want to be his healthiest obsession,

the storm in his mind he never wants to calm.

i want him frantic for me.

possessive.

a man who counts the minutes he’s not near me

like they’re sins.

a man who sees red

when another man even thinks my name.

i want to be the only woman he sees.

no wandering eyes,

no lingering thoughts.

just me.

always,

only

me.

i want his past to feel like a dull ache

compared to the fire i’ve lit in him.

i want to be the reason

he can’t sleep,

can’t think,

can’t breathe right.

i want him to want me

to the point of madness.

to love me so deeply

it terrifies him,

because losing me would feel like death.

i want his soul to tangle with mine

so violently,

so utterly,

that nothing before me

ever mattered.

and nothing after me

is even possible.

lunamonchtuna

— Clementine Von Radics, from In A Dream You Saw A Way To Survive; "The Fear" (via lunamonchtuna)

manincaffeine

I want romance. I want laughter. I want the 3am love making. I want consistency. I want loyalty. I want the random looks of admiration. I want to know you're just for me. I want date nights and flowers. I want truth. I want priority. I want love that's pure and calming.