Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 Jul 2 eliana
Nat Lipstadt
prayer of hope, for young and old, who suffer from the slings and arrows sadness and the loss of love; I offer up this prayer of hope and offer you my hand around your shoulders until you no longer require it

more than once,
for lengthy periods,
by events, other people,
my self was eradicated
and limping from day
to night, and J faced
absolutes, choices choking,
alternating alternatives that
offered zero, or even less
than zero, and the inkwell
wasn't refillable, and I could
point to nothing yet encouraging a mystifying purposed existence

then came a woman

who asked nor proffered
conditionals
pre, prior post or otherwise
and
offered up the miraculous
drink, human kindly notice,
snd it
drained the bitters,
began fluid replacement,
and slow resuscitation

and then
poems rebirthed me,
 liberated the angry sacred
gory sadness words devoid of glory,
with a reworded score, and
the eyes could write without
a patina filter of jaundiced hatred,
and whispered private internally
many times a beloving
hallelujah

and when ever the remembrance of
the near misses are crackly occasionally appearing, the surge dissipates intact quick
into a netherworld for suppressing
and bid "away with you," and a
thin lipped smile part sneer
for having survived
even
prospered when
                    then came a woman

and the self, the my self,
returned
after an absence of destructed
decades...deadening decades

and I smile when
the grandchildren tell me
knock knock jokes
and gently knock me on the head,
to make sure I'm alert,
then came woman
who had already~all ready
knocked me on the
heart
lipstadt  reflections of self
 Jul 2 eliana
hannah
my heart is a landing pad
breathe in
catch
breathe out
let go
breathe in
catch
breathe out
let go
breathe in
breathe in
breathe in
i cant catch
breathe oubreatheinbreatheinbreathein
 Jul 2 eliana
Maria
Hello, whom I'll never meet,
Never hear, never forget,
Never loose and never find,
Never spot and never mind.

Hello, who'll turn up in my dreams,
Who'll never let me to taste the pain,
Who'll never betray and never lie,
Who'll never depart without goodbye.

I take leave of you, my unknown one,
My unsearchable and remarked for none,
My unnamed and mythic for last,
But so endlessly and sweetly loved.
Thank you for reading this poem! 💖
 Jun 30 eliana
rick
smile
 Jun 30 eliana
rick
it’s sad to say
that nowadays
a smile
is more often
used
to hide depression
rather than
express
happiness.
 Jun 30 eliana
badwords
Leaving the mirror feels like walking out of a shadow,
You try to piece together the fragments,
Accepting they will never mirror you again.
Some might say it’s your fault,
But it feels like walking through life
With a quiet strength where there once was emptiness.
Solitude.
Acceptance.
Self-compassion.
Growth.
Patienc­e.
Stillness.
Gratitude.
Understanding.
Trusting your own reflection.
No longer seeking validation,
No longer seeing yourself in others.
The image was false,
But the truth is clearer now,
The quiet voice that was always there,
Unshaken.
The grief fades—
Not gone, but transformed.

Strength.
Awareness.
A new beginning.
~for Ghost

https://hellopoetry.com/poem/4968322/trauma-bond/

I wrote this in a style to mirror the framing of the original as closely as possible in solidarity for recounting my own experiences in a similar situation.


Broken Mirror explores the emotional journey of self-realization and healing following a toxic relationship. The poem reflects on the experience of losing a relationship that was built on validation rather than genuine connection, symbolized by the shattered mirror. The narrator, once dependent on external affirmation, finds themselves confronted with the stark emptiness left behind when that mirror is broken. As they struggle with feelings of solitude and grief, a quiet transformation begins, one that shifts from confusion to self-awareness.

Throughout the piece, the poem traces a movement from pain, isolation, and self-doubt toward acceptance, self-compassion, and ultimately empowerment. The narrative journey mirrors the internal process of healing, where the protagonist learns to stand on their own without relying on others for validation, embracing their true self amidst the fragments of the past. By the end of the poem, the narrator no longer seeks validation from external sources but instead discovers strength in their own reflection, marking the beginning of a new, more authentic chapter in their life.

The poet aims to capture the emotional complexity of a relationship defined by narcissistic dynamics, while also offering a hopeful perspective on self-reclamation. The poem invites readers to witness the pain of losing a validating reflection but also celebrates the transformative process of reclaiming one's true identity in the aftermath.
 Jun 30 eliana
CantSeeMe
I keep saying it will be okay
cause you are everything I need these days

you say you're a disappointment
when I think you're a treasure

you say you can't handle everything
when I think you already do

you say you're not atlas…
when I think you’re my sky

I look at your face
you hit me with your eyes
and I understand that
it's hard to be

you ask for help
and I waited
for this moment
longer than I could remember
begging to help
someone
who wanted to dive
and drown
ending life

cause I believe
sometimes there are those beautiful things
down in the sea
coral they name
deep down you’ll see

and I believe
you can get lost in their beauty
but if you stay too long
you will drown
before you even feel you’ve gone down

and I believe
that admiring the beauty of the darkness isn't the fall
but touching is, when you lose it all

you say you're weak
when I think you're strong

you say you want love
a reaching hand
when I just hope
mine is enough

and I believe
oh I believe
that
I just need to try
even when
trying feels like drowning tho
Based on the song "You Say" by Lauren Daigle
I know this song is about reaching out to God.
But I just thought....
Sometimes,
we want a person to help us so badly, thinking that person will fix everything. But what if that person is just trying?
Just doing something in the hope it will fix, not knowing what’s right or wrong,
just… trying
Your scars,
Deep rivers,
Etched with veins and blood.

Your storm,
A raging fire on your ship,
Screams hidden
Beneath the fiery roar.

It's YOUR fire,
A smoldering core
Of you—
Born from your heart,
Soul,
Experiences,
People you meet.

It's your flame,
A fierce flame,
Licking at your weaknesses,
Boarding your ship
And burning it—
Not giving up the fight.

You're not broken,
Only shaped by your fire—
So is your boat.

You're reborn,
Shaped like molten metal
Through your wildest flame.

Your story is never "soft"—
It's your sword,
Carved from
New-found courage,
Love,
Hate, and strength
After each rebuild.

We all break,
But then we bloom,
Like dandelions
Bursting through
Cracked concrete—
They stay alive no matter
How many times they get crushed.

You can rise
From blood—
The crimson ink
Is now your story.
You shed
It all
As your power
Of writing.

The sky will
Turn blue,
Washing away
Raging waves
Who roar
Like the largest lion.

Cotton ball clouds
Will patch your wounds,
Gently soothing
Your battered heart—
Shattered boat.

We'll all come together,
Helping to build
Your sails back up,
From frayed, worn threads,
Repairing the wooden boards
With boards
Like bones,
Holding strength inside.

Your storm is beautiful,
Just like you.

It's your storm—
We'll be here --always--
To help you fight through.
 Jun 30 eliana
Kalliope
I wash myself with water,
you find too hot to touch
But it soothes my aching muscles and
my tired soul so much
Relaxation is becoming me,
with eucalyptus in the air,
Soothing all my senses while I
lather it through my hair
Jelly bean body scrub in hand,
everything smells sweet
Exfoliating the day from my being, removing myself from defeat
Rubbing circles along my jaw to massage away exhaustion,
high pressured heat to free my shoulders of the burden they carry so often
Body oil to top it off,
strawberry my favorite choice
It's hard to hate yourself when you smell so good,
but it's easier to find my voice
It’s just soap and steam and strawberry oil, but it feels like a ritual to remind my body she’s worthy of being loved ✨️
 Jun 30 eliana
Lynn Stillman
I have many scars
But they all tell a story
They are my tattoos.
Next page