I thought you were my certain shield, The one true, steadfast, loyal friend. A naive conviction, now revealed, That you would stand until the end, No matter the storm, the challenge faced, Your full resolve, completely placed.
I sought a fierce, unwavering vow, A pure defense, holding nothing back, A perfect pledge, as you know how, To guard my ground along the track. A hundred percent, my only plea, Undeniable fealty.
But that fierce certainty is gone, A shattered faith, a painful lie. I wake to realize at dawn, I lack the worth that merits why— I’m not enough, I see it clear, To warrant that support so dear.
The wound of ‘sorry’ is a slight, A shallow balm that cannot mend The hollow ache of broken light; It will not bring the hurt to end. For others hold a higher seat, They taste the loyalty I greet.
And so, the starkest truth remains, A bitter draught I must consume: To face the isolating rains, To walk alone within the gloom. I must accept, in every plight, I stand completely by my light.
They claim the name of “friend,” a title bright, Yet stand as distant as the stars’ cold light. Their voices, once a vibrant, clear refrain, Now reach the ear as faint, distorted pain, Lost, perhaps, in some far, forgotten bar. They speak of history, of shared delight, A woven tapestry of days gone by, But in this stark and unforgiving now, Only their deep, loud silence makes a vow— A painful echo, truer than their word.
A Hollow Bond
What lingers is a hollow, empty shell, A bond without true grace or truth to tell. A fleeting shadow, swift to disappear, Leaving no trace upon the heart held dear. How dare they wear that loyal title still, When constant absence proves against their will A bond untrue, a pretense built on air? Friendship’s true essence is betrayed by care And presence that they utterly withhold, A story of detachment, stark and cold.
Unkept Promises and Letting Go This fragile friendship rose on broken ground, Of promises unkept, no solace found.
Aspirations whispered, never meant to bloom, Commitments scattered to an early tomb. A frail construction, easily swept wide By life’s small currents, or convenient tide. The time has come for separation’s plea, A painful truth that sets the spirit free. So cherish those whose actions speak of grace, Whose faithful presence keeps its steady pace. And with resolve, and self-respect’s strong hand, Let go of those who fail to understand The burden shared, the joy, the vital art,
Am I a difficult person to be friends with? The question echoes in the lonely silence, A heavy query, weighted by repeated pain. I dissect each word, each passing glance, Seeking the flaw so visible to others’ eyes, Yet stubbornly opaque, a shadow on my own stain.
Am I too awkward, my presence a strain? Does nervousness stilt the practiced conversation? I rehearse the words, the balance I must find, To hold the moment, a calculated equation. But the words tumble out, a chaotic, hurried rush, Leaving the perfect moment behind.
Am I too anxious, a constant, worrying hum? A fear of saying too much, of taking up space, Of simply being a burden, too large, too loud. This anxiety, palpable, a barrier I can’t erase, A repellent field that pushes people away, Before a true connection is allowed.
Do I forget to hold my tongue’s sharp edge? I value honesty, perhaps too stark and free. I speak without the varnish of social grace, And the truth, though gently offered, can still be Mistaken for bluntness, a candor that drives them out. What is it? A flaw I cannot place.
I don’t have many friends; the truth is stark. My circle’s small, fragile, and often transient. I don’t know what’s wrong, the fundamental divide. While others form bonds, lasting and resilient, Mine disintegrate like paper submerged in water, With nowhere left to run, nowhere to hide.
I am a friend until a better one appears. I serve a purpose, a stand-in for the interim, A convenient stop until a brighter option’s found. I am never good enough, always on the rim; The comparison is the moment of my replacement. I am the waiting room, not the desired ground.
I hold on too long, clinging to the frayed thread, Stretching the inevitable goodbye, a profound fear. My loyalty, my constancy, becomes a weight, A burden they let go, holding nothing dear. Sometimes I must be the one to let go first, A painful, self-preserving, final tear.
It is lonely at times, profoundly I miss The shared laughter, the feeling of belonging, deep inside. But is it real, or the memory idealized? A performance they gave, while they stood by my side, Waiting for the true cast, the better friends to arrive. In the lie of the past, there’s no place left to confide.
I will be there for those who need me to be. My nature unchanged, I offer care freely, A reliable constant, though never the primary light. If you want me to go, tell me honestly. Spare me the slow fade, the ghosting, the agonizing fight. But if you call again, I’ll return without demanding right.
Cherish the friends who remain by your side. Focus on the true constants, the precious, small few. If some want to leave, let them walk away; Their departure speaks of their needs, not a judgment on you. Accept the impermanence, hold the good memories fast, And keep the door open for the few who are true.
The black phone rests, a silence made of glass, A direct line across the choking air. My fingers yearn to seize its cool, smooth mass, To dial the number etched beyond compare. A fleeting urge to break the constant drone, To trade my heart’s loud drumming for a voice unknown.
Or I could message, try to weave a careful plea, A sequence of small signs, an emoji’s face. To message more, to bridge the digital sea, But leaden weight holds me within this space. I am a prisoner in my own inertia’s thrall, Unable to bridge the gap from thought to call.
My restless hands climb to my weary head, To twirl a strand of blonde around a finger’s tip. A pull, a slow release, a mark of tender red, Until the coil is tight upon my lip. A meaningless ritual, a physical display, Of all the mental turmoil that will not fade away
Inside, the engine roars, though I appear so still, My heart a frantic drummer beating out alarm. The air is thin, a breath against my panicked will, A visceral, exhausting, full-body harm. Yet, still life carries on, the sun’s indifferent track,
Oblivious to the silent crisis holding back. And so, I do not call. The paralysis has won, Against the simple, human wish to just connect. I hate the phone for what it has become, A terrifying chance of being now rejected
The pressure of potential, the awkwardness that lies, Reflected in the fear within my anxious eyes. I lift my hand again, to message in the night, But corrosive thoughts poison the touch before it lands: I am a bother, a shadow, an intrusive blight, A need that only inconveniences hands.
A self-imposed boundary, a powerful, deep chill, That freezes my desire and holds my actions still. This cease-less fight, the heart that pounds and strains, The hand that freezes on the tool for grace— The manufactured boundary of “being a pain”— This is the cage, the isolating space.
Anxiety’s invisible lock, a final, cruel decree, To watch the phone lie unused, and never to be free.
The laughter used to echo, warm and true, A comfort found in every shared ado. But shadows crept, a subtle, chilling guise, Reflected in their knowing, mocking eyes.
They pulled me close, a puppet on their string, Each foolish step, a bitter, whispered sting. My words unheard, my pleas just brushed aside, No common ground where truth could safely ride.
A silent pact, a role I had to play, To be the foil, to brighten up their day. While in my heart, a heavy feeling grew, A sense of self, slowly fading from view.
The tether snapped, a quiet, forceful break, No grand goodbyes, no promises to make. Just weary steps, into the light I strode, Unburdened by the debt I felt I owed.
And now I breathe, a freedom sweet and deep, No longer bound by secrets they would keep. The air is clear, the path ahead is bright, Released from shadows, bathed in my own light.
The quiet hum of an empty room, Aching with silence, shrouded in gloom. A longing for laughter, a shared embrace, A soul connection, in this lonely space.
To find a friend, a kindred spirit true, Whose words bring comfort, whose thoughts shine through. Someone to message, without a second thought, Whose conversations leave my spirit caught.
To share the mundane, the dreams, the fears, To wipe away the lonely, silent tears. A bond unbreakable, a trust so deep, Knowing my secrets, they’ll forever keep.
But fear whispers doubts, a constant refrain, “Will I be too much? Will they feel the strain?” The need for connection battles the dread, Of being a burden, words left unsaid.
Yet hope flickers still, a tiny flame, That somewhere out there, someone feels the same. A yearning for friendship, a hand to hold, A story waiting, waiting to unfold.
A familiar voice, a reaching hand, A bridge to mend, across a wounded land. But echoes linger, of pain and strife, A question lingers, of a fragile life.
Should I forgive, and let the past unfold, Or guard my heart, a story yet untold? To trust again, or doubt the friend I knew, A tangled web, where choices intertwine.
Can wounds be healed, or scars remain? A heavy burden, a constant strain. To reconcile, or walk away with pride, A battle within, where answers do not abide.
A true friend cares for you when you’re distressed. A true friend fights for you when you’re crushed. True friends are hard to find, but when you do find one, hold onto them.
Embrace them and never let go Say you’re sorry and move on Be vulnerable and let the friendship grow Be accepting and apologetic, caring and nurturing And watch this garden grow.
Don’t be afraid to get hurt. Don’t be afraid to show your true self
For when we close ourselves off, We lose the love and the faith we could’ve had. We will never have the friendships we seek if we can’t allow them in. We will never have that love that we strive for.
