#everydaypoems

[poemsmadebyfoolslikeme]

Finally, You're Forgiven

April 19, 2025

I dreamed of nights both long and cold, The hurtful truths you left untold. You turned away, refused to speak, And left my closure incomplete.

I learned to see your silence through, A quiet end I never knew. But still, the wound refused to heal, Its sting was sharp, its ache was real.

Our paths crossed once in 2018, Your gaze was distant, harsh, and keen. No words of sorrow, no amends, Just apathy where once were friends.

I held my breath; time marched along, To 2024, the pain felt strong. A relapse shook my weary core, The ghosts of love knocked on my door.

Another dose to calm my mind, To leave my restless nights behind. For years, the weight of shame I bore, From chasing love that loved no more.

But now, I’ve set your spirit free, Forgiveness blooms inside of me. The heavy chains at last unwind, Your shadow fades within my mind.

I hope she loves you as I tried, And fills the voids I once supplied. But as for me, I’ve found my light, A steady love that feels just right.

My man now laughs, he lifts my soul, He mends my heart, he makes me whole. A peace you never could sustain, A joy that heals, beyond the pain.

[poemsmadebyfoolslikeme]

Giving Up

March 19, 2026

What if I give up? Give up hoping, Give up that this overthinking will stop?

What if I finally let the silence win, let it wrap around my ribs like how it always wanted to?

What if I stop fighting the nights that stretch too long, stop pretending mornings feel like new beginnings?

What if I admit that some thoughts don’t leave, they just learn how to whisper harsher than before so no one notices I’m still breaking?

But then, what if giving up isn’t quiet at all?

What if it echoes, louder than every sound I ever made?

Every whine, every gasp, every moan, And maybe… maybe I’m not tired of hoping, just tired of hoping alone.

Why am I still breaking in the same places?

What if I give up trying to explain why my chest feels heavy for no reason I can name, why my mind keeps running even when I’m already exhausted?

What if I stop reaching out, stop talking, stop ranting?

The pauses in my sentences, the way I say “I’m not fine” just a little too quickly?

What if I let myself disappear? not enough for anyone to ask, but enough that I don’t have to keep pretending?

[poemsmadebyfoolslikeme]

Coffee is You

April 23, 2025

Coffee is bad for me, just like you are— like sugar, a forbidden fruit, coffee corrodes both my physical and mental well-being.

Like the violent caffeine rush, you crashed into my life without warning and everything began to spiral wildly.

I swore to myself I wouldn't be caught in that same desperate boat again, yet here I am—once more the one in breathless pursuit.

Like how I carve precious time for the ones who truly matter, I sacrifice my hours, my days just to feel your electrifying touch.

Is falling in love really this maddening, this illogical? Or do the experts hide some explanation for this bewildering phenomenon?

Or am I being foolish—again— like the countless times before?

Still, I cling desperately to hope that somehow my rational mind might seize control of our situation.

I cannot bear to lose myself one more devastating time like before—to the man I believed I would marry

and to the other who I foolishly thought could transform for my sake, but only ever hungered for my body.

Like coffee, love is brutally complex, spiking all the intoxicating endorphins in my ridiculous, traitorous brain.

Coffee is you— bitter with just a twist of dangerous sweetness, can be scalding hot or achingly cold, always exploiting my greatest weakness.

[poemsmadebyfoolslikeme]

By Fools Like Me

February 19, 2026

If fools write mindless poems like this Where are the poems that are made in bliss? Are those poems lost at sea? Or is it kept and torn freely? From a poet that's scorned, And inevitably mourned. Did he or she lose their mind? If then, what did they eventually find? Have they found comfort or thoughts that triggers? Or sadness that truly and endlessly lingers? Through tears and fears and battles won, I hope they find a solid one A solid reason to live and heave– And find in their written words, a reprieve. Each and every word is the key, To poems that are made by fools like me.

[poemsmadebyfoolslikeme]

Cindy Was Right

May 4, 2025 Cindy was right. I love too much— they say it's soft, they say it's such a foolish way to lose your fight— but hearts like mine still burn so bright.

Cindy was right. I wore their pain like second skin, held space for storms they held within. I stayed through seasons they let go— while they watched flowers, I braved snow.

Cindy was right. To feel too deep can break you fast, when you’re the first and always last. Your hands are kind, your voice sincere— but no one stays to truly hear.

Cindy was right— being broken too much isn't weak. It’s scars that sing, though none dare speak. It’s giving warmth with bloodied hands, while no one helps you learn to stand.

Cindy was right. I poured my light in every room, but they just let me chase my doom. They smiled in sun, I cried in rain— my open heart, their silent gain.

Cindy was right. I said “I’m sorry” far too loud for caring more than they allowed. As if compassion had a cost— as if my love meant I was lost.

Cindy was right. I begged for crumbs, still fed them gold. They left me out, alone and cold. They took my fire, then left me bare— while I still hoped that they would care.

Cindy was right. The warmest hearts are worn and tired, from lifting others uninspired. We don’t burn out from giving all— we burn from never being called.

[poemsmadebyfoolslikeme]

If I Told Her

May 5, 2025 She’s the kind of girl who calls the shots. She directs. She edits. She dreams in wide frames. Sometimes I think about telling her— Not in a loud way, but like a scene you don’t forget. A quiet confession caught in golden light. Would it have mattered? Would I have stood a chance, next to all the men probably swooning, just as fast, just as breathless? If I were someone else— reborn, rewritten, even made different— I’d still find her. Still get on one knee, still ask her, no matter the body, time, or world. Because every time she walks in, she’s cinematic. The kind of girl stars gather around. And in my head, she’s the ending I always root for. I’d give her something no one else offered: ease. safety. the feeling of being chosen without her having to fight for it. I’d never claim to deserve her. But I’d show up, every day, loyal. certain. hers. No one else. Just her. Always her. —Maybe not this lifetime… But still hers in every version of me.

[poemsmadebyfoolslikeme]

Left with Echoes

April 5, 2026 The coffee’s black, the kitchen’s still, The clock just ticks against its will. I reach for you through muscle memory, To find a ghost, a hollowed treasury.

I trace the dent upon your side, The place where secrets used to hide. Now every shadow looks like grace, A cruel projection of your face.

I walk the halls and check the lock, Trapped in the rhythm of the shock. The hallway light is flickering low, A pulse that’s hesitant to go.

The sun begins its slow ascent, To mock the time we should have spent. I close my eyes to catch the spark, But I’m just dancing in the dark.

The bed’s too cold, the sheets don’t hold, The story’s done, the truth is told. I’m left with echoes, sharp and thin, Of a life I can’t get back within.

[poemsmadebyfoolslikeme]

Without You

March 22, 2026

I loved you

in small, quiet ways,

in the way I saved your words,

in the way

I waited just to hear your voice.

Then one day,

You were gone like a door left open

and the wind took everything.

Now the days feel long,

and nights feel even longer.

I still think of you

when I see your favorite things,

and it hurts every time.

I don’t know how to stop missing you.

I don’t know how to feel okay.

But my heart keeps going,

slow and sore,

like it’s tryingto learn the world again

without you.