With Love, Seth Arion

I Write A Little

[setharion]

I Feel Trapped In Love

i want you —

don’t touch me.

come closer —

you’re too close.

i beg for your hands

then bruise myself pulling away.

i starve for affection,

chew on fantasies,

lick the idea of love off my fingers —

but when it’s real,

when it breathes,

when it looks back at me,

i panic.

i pull you in

just to feel powerful

pushing you out.

i need to be wanted

until wanting becomes a cage.

your love presses against my ribs,

a siren screaming stay

while my body screams run.

i crave the chase,

the ache,

the almost —

but certainty makes me choke.

so i tug the rope tighter

then cry when it burns my hands.

and when you finally leave —

when the room exhales your name,

when your absence sits where your body was

i collapse.

i reach for you

with phantom limbs,

scratch at the air like you might still be there.

i miss you violently,

the way addicts miss relief.

i replay your voice

until it loses its warmth

and becomes punishment.

i wanted you gone —

so why does the silence feel louder

than your love ever was?

i don’t want to be alone.

i don’t want to be owned.

i don’t want silence.

i don’t want to be seen this clearly.

i push you away

then bleed when you don’t come back.

i fear love when it stays —

and grieve it

when it finally listens.

-Seth Arion

[setharion]

[setharion]

If Death Comes For Everyone, Then Why Am I Chasing It?

[setharion]

Alone In my Tower

My solitude is not quiet—

it’s all-consuming.

A man slept in my bed three nights ago

and I couldn’t wait to wash the sheets.

His warmth—agony.

His absence—devastation.

I know he’s not the one.

But I’m not sure

“the one”

is worth searching for anymore.

All this time I’ve spent waiting in my tower—

I could’ve lived a dozen lives by now,

met a hundred almost-loves,

tasted something other than waiting.

Even if I never fell in love,

at least I would’ve been living.

My mind shifts at the drop of a dime—

so five-year plans feel like fiction.

But maybe

in five days,

or five seconds—

I’ll realize nothing was coming

and finally move.

-Seth Arion

[setharion]

Blackout Shades

I keep blackout shades on my windows

because I’m afraid of the sun.

I’m sensitive to light—

not just the astigmatism,

something deeper,

something that burns.

It scorches my skin

more than it did when I was a kid,

like it knows I’ve softened.

And still—

the thought of a warm summer day

fills me with something close to joy.

But the sun is a clock, too.

A slow, flaming reminder

of how quickly everything sets.

I watch it disappear

like time slipping out of my hands—

like something I was never meant to hold.

So I stay in the dark,

where nothing reaches far enough to hurt me.

The dark doesn’t promise anything.

It doesn’t pretend I’ll become something

I never seem to be.

In the dark,

I don’t have to hope.

My blackout shades

pull tight like a second skin,

keeping out the light—

keeping me from feeling

how close I am

to ending

-Seth Arion

[setharion]

Just a Tinge

His distance gives me just a tinge of blue

not heartbreak,

just enough to color the edges of things,

like a sky that can’t decide

if it wants to hold or break.

He books a flight to Bulgaria

like it’s nothing,

like disappearing is casual for him,

like leaving is a language

he’s fluent in.

Surfer, sun-bleached

hair that’s held onto too much light,

like he belongs to somewhere warm

I was never invited to.

And his name—

it sounds like a place you’d run to,

start over in,

or the road you take too fast at night

just to feel something shift.

Green eyes,

that Cheshire smile—

mischief tucked into the corners,

like he knows more than he’s saying

and likes it that way.

And I keep coming back to it

what’s bigger, really,

his wit

or the way I picture him

walking into my room,

like he’s always been allowed there—

leaving me grinning,

a little stupid,

a little dazed,

just a little blue,

just a little…

wanting more.

-Seth Arion

[setharion]

What is Love?

A concept you read in a magazine.

A scene you witness on a screen.

A word with no meaning—

no context, no practice.

A capitalist anomaly

created to make money,

harder to understand

than the minerals they mine for it.

More expensive than

a heart-shaped box of candies

and a boutique of flowers.

Softer than the sentences

inside a cheap dollar-store card.

A blessing only a few are lucky to receive,

then somehow end up fucking up

and never get to keep.

For me,

it’s the way my dog breathes

when she’s fast asleep,

lying beside me.

-Seth Arion

[setharion]

Loveless

I don’t really know how to function

I’ve never been loveless before.

Lust and memory were all that I chased—

echoes with mouths,

ghosts with warm hands.

I keep traveling backward in time,

mistaking familiarity for home,

pressing replay until the feeling almost breathes again.

Is it time to run forward

instead of circling the past

like a bruise I keep touching

to make sure it’s still there?

Do I find a new noun to love—

not a body,

not a name,

not a face that disappears at night?

Maybe something quieter.

Maybe something that doesn’t leave.

A new reason to breathe.

A softer hunger.

A will to live

that doesn’t hinge on being wanted.

I am standing in the space

where longing used to live,

learning what my hands do

when there’s nothing left to reach for.

-Seth Arion

[setharion]

Buzzing In Rainbows

Sparkles, ribbons, and ghosts.

A red bridge—

new home.

Oh, the places you’ll go

with black no hats

’cause they don’t fit my head.

Small chances, big dreams.

New job, new me.

I feel it in the air—

silent but vibrating,

buzzing in rainbows

like butterfly wings.

Leave a tooth under my pillow,

trade wisdom for wealth.

West coast in doubt,

east coast too loud.

Cold,

broken,

and lonely—

but still moving.

-Seth Arion

[setharion]

Timeout

I put myself in the corner

of every room I’m in—

at parties,clubs,in every place I’ve been.

A timeout of sorts,

but not for bad behavior.

To breathe, to cry, to silently scream

the pain that others hold,

that somehow finds its way to me.

-Seth Arion

[setharion]

Timeout

I put myself in the corner

of every room I’m in—

at parties,clubs,in every place I’ve been.

A timeout of sorts,

but not for bad behavior.

To breathe, to cry, to silently scream

the pain that others hold,

that somehow finds its way to me.

-Seth Arion

[setharion]

Safety

I miss it—

Being held,

Not like a baby,

But a victim searching for safety.

-Seth Arion

[setharion]

Butterflies

I used to confuse feeling with butterflies.

I used to confuse attraction with butterflies.

I used to confuse love with butterflies.

But butterflies were just anxiety—

my body bracing my heart for impact.

- Seth Arion

[setharion]

Handle With Care

You handle me with caution,

you handle me with care.

You handle me like I’m fragile

because you know I’m scared.

You handle me like I’m special,

like a present you once received.

You handle me like I’m precious,

like a memory you won’t release.

You handle me like a doorknob,

like a drawer—something meant to open.

Like a crime you’d like to crack,

something to study, to solve.

You handle me like there’s a right way,

like I’m a victim in your sight.

You handle me like you were meant

to handle me.

-Seth Arion

[setharion]

A PIN IN TIME

The goodbye we never had

The words we never spoke

Live in the air I breathe,

scream in the silence between thoughts.

Pin a mark in time we’ll never find—

existing only in the conversations

inside my mind.

-Seth Arion

[setharion]

7&7

Seagram’s 7 with 7 Up as a chaser

Backwards in time, I dance tonight

Under the influence, but no tear racer

My liver learned better than my brain

Insane—in sane, in a frame, I was framed

Inside the game, inside a dream, inside the TV

You’re naked, I’m not

You’re yearning, I’m not

Insane—I’m sane

Reversed roles, roles reversed

Seagram’s 7, 7 upside down as a chaser

Upwards and onwards, I preach

Under the influencer, I can’t reach

My brain learned better than my weakened liver

- Seth Arion

[setharion]

womb

Foreign bodies,

Foreign places,

A carousel of new faces.

What if home was only a holding cell—

A womb I waited in,

never delivered to the world I needed?

I think I’m finally ready

to be born again.

- Seth Arion