navirose
<3
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poems I'm too afraid to say.
words I'm too afraid to shout.
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.
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poems I'm too afraid to say.
words I'm too afraid to shout.
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Poetry her quiet words.
- Thread starter Thread starter navirose
- Start date Start date
navirose
<3
someone else.
I trace my ribs,
count the spaces in between,
wondering if I should be less or more—
if I should carve myself into something easier to love.
I patch myself up with secondhand words,
stitching together "you’re enough" and "it’s okay"
until the seams fray, and I remember
I never really believed them anyway.
I shrink in spaces I should fill,
speak softer in rooms I want to own,
laugh at jokes I don’t find funny
because silence is just another way to be seen.
I could be whole if I tried hard enough.
I could be better if I wasn’t me.
I trace my ribs,
count the spaces in between,
wondering if I should be less or more—
if I should carve myself into something easier to love.
I patch myself up with secondhand words,
stitching together "you’re enough" and "it’s okay"
until the seams fray, and I remember
I never really believed them anyway.
I shrink in spaces I should fill,
speak softer in rooms I want to own,
laugh at jokes I don’t find funny
because silence is just another way to be seen.
I could be whole if I tried hard enough.
I could be better if I wasn’t me.
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navirose
<3
dead air
the radio hums static,
but no one's listening.
I sit in a room full of voices,
but the words never touch me.
just their syllables.
someone tells me to breathe,
as if my lungs remember how.
as if they haven’t spent years
holding in oceans,
waiting for a storm that never comes.
I loved once.
or maybe I dreamed it.
same thing, isn’t it?
one ends when you wake up,
the other when they leave.
I try to stitch myself together
with words, with hands, with prayers,
but I unravel just the same.
pull one thread, watch it all come loose.
watch me spill out,
a body without a shape,
a story without a voice.
and maybe that’s the point—
to be nothing.
to fade into dead air,
to be the silence
between songs no one remembers.
the radio hums static,
but no one's listening.
I sit in a room full of voices,
but the words never touch me.
just their syllables.
someone tells me to breathe,
as if my lungs remember how.
as if they haven’t spent years
holding in oceans,
waiting for a storm that never comes.
I loved once.
or maybe I dreamed it.
same thing, isn’t it?
one ends when you wake up,
the other when they leave.
I try to stitch myself together
with words, with hands, with prayers,
but I unravel just the same.
pull one thread, watch it all come loose.
watch me spill out,
a body without a shape,
a story without a voice.
and maybe that’s the point—
to be nothing.
to fade into dead air,
to be the silence
between songs no one remembers.
navirose
<3
broken vases
we’re all cracked porcelain
dusted with dust we can’t shake off
hearts locked in the wrong cages
looking for keys we swallowed in childhood
you asked me once if I thought you could change
I said "if I did, I’d be more than what I am"
now look at me, still shrinking in the dark
we’re all cracked porcelain
dusted with dust we can’t shake off
hearts locked in the wrong cages
looking for keys we swallowed in childhood
you asked me once if I thought you could change
I said "if I did, I’d be more than what I am"
now look at me, still shrinking in the dark
navirose
<3
what do you do with a heart too heavy to carry?
i have held it in my hands,
a bird too tired to fly,
wings dragging across the dirt,
leaving behind lines that don’t spell anything.
the days stack like unpaid debts,
and i sift through them,
looking for something that doesn’t ache—
a memory untouched,
a moment unspoiled,
but even my laughter sounds like an apology.
i build myself up just to crumble quietly,
like sandcastles waiting for the tide,
like hands that reach and never hold,
like names whispered by people who never stay.
and god, i have tried—
tried to be enough, tried to be less,
tried to be something other than a breaking thing.
but what do you do with a heart too heavy to carry,
when it only ever beats like it’s begging to stop?
i have held it in my hands,
a bird too tired to fly,
wings dragging across the dirt,
leaving behind lines that don’t spell anything.
the days stack like unpaid debts,
and i sift through them,
looking for something that doesn’t ache—
a memory untouched,
a moment unspoiled,
but even my laughter sounds like an apology.
i build myself up just to crumble quietly,
like sandcastles waiting for the tide,
like hands that reach and never hold,
like names whispered by people who never stay.
and god, i have tried—
tried to be enough, tried to be less,
tried to be something other than a breaking thing.
but what do you do with a heart too heavy to carry,
when it only ever beats like it’s begging to stop?
navirose
<3
Some Days
Some nights, I count the cracks in the ceiling,
trace constellations in peeling paint,
name them after the things I lost.
Somewhere, I think, someone is laughing,
someone is learning how to love their own skin,
someone is waking up to something soft.
But I am still here,
spitting out dreams like cherry pits,
watching them roll under the bed.
You tell me I should be grateful.
You tell me it gets better.
And I nod, like maybe if I agree hard enough,
it will.
Some nights, I count the cracks in the ceiling,
trace constellations in peeling paint,
name them after the things I lost.
Somewhere, I think, someone is laughing,
someone is learning how to love their own skin,
someone is waking up to something soft.
But I am still here,
spitting out dreams like cherry pits,
watching them roll under the bed.
You tell me I should be grateful.
You tell me it gets better.
And I nod, like maybe if I agree hard enough,
it will.
navirose
<3
Leftovers
We're all the last bite on a dinner plate
Pushed around, forgotten, cold
Like words stuck in your throat
Like the jacket you left in the rain,
Too damp to wear, too dry to throw away.
We're all half-written letters
Crumpled before the ink can dry,
Half-names on the tip of a tongue,
Half-promises whispered in a car
Where the radio hums louder than love.
You look for meaning in the spaces between
In the skipped songs, in the missed calls
In the empty chairs at tables you don’t belong to.
Maybe if you stare long enough,
A reason will bloom from the silence.
But all you find is the echo of your own voice
Telling you to be quieter.
Telling you to take up less space.
Telling you that the world will spin just fine
Without your weight pressing into it.
And maybe it will.
And maybe it won’t.
But either way,
You still have to wake up tomorrow.
We're all the last bite on a dinner plate
Pushed around, forgotten, cold
Like words stuck in your throat
Like the jacket you left in the rain,
Too damp to wear, too dry to throw away.
We're all half-written letters
Crumpled before the ink can dry,
Half-names on the tip of a tongue,
Half-promises whispered in a car
Where the radio hums louder than love.
You look for meaning in the spaces between
In the skipped songs, in the missed calls
In the empty chairs at tables you don’t belong to.
Maybe if you stare long enough,
A reason will bloom from the silence.
But all you find is the echo of your own voice
Telling you to be quieter.
Telling you to take up less space.
Telling you that the world will spin just fine
Without your weight pressing into it.
And maybe it will.
And maybe it won’t.
But either way,
You still have to wake up tomorrow.
navirose
<3
mirrors
I hate mirrors.
Not because they break—
but because they don’t.
They just sit there,
waiting for me to look,
to flinch,
to pretend I don’t care.
I tilt my head,
squint a little,
maybe if I stand like this,
maybe if the light hits different,
maybe if I stop breathing for a second,
it won’t be so—
But it always is.
Too much of this,
not enough of that,
a war between bone and skin
and a voice that won’t shut up.
I pick at myself,
like a bird plucking feathers,
thinking if I just remove what doesn’t belong,
I’ll finally feel like I do.
I hate mirrors.
Not because they break—
but because they don’t.
They just sit there,
waiting for me to look,
to flinch,
to pretend I don’t care.
I tilt my head,
squint a little,
maybe if I stand like this,
maybe if the light hits different,
maybe if I stop breathing for a second,
it won’t be so—
But it always is.
Too much of this,
not enough of that,
a war between bone and skin
and a voice that won’t shut up.
I pick at myself,
like a bird plucking feathers,
thinking if I just remove what doesn’t belong,
I’ll finally feel like I do.
navirose
<3
Not Enough
I stretch myself thin,
like paper worn soft at the edges,
held up to the light, hoping I’ll glow—
but I only tear.
I press my fingers to my face,
trace the curve of my cheek,
the line of my jaw,
as if I might find the answer in the shape of me.
But my skin is just skin,
my name is just a word,
and my voice—
God, my voice doesn’t even sound like mine.
I speak in echoes,
words bouncing back at me, warped,
like I never said them right the first time.
Or the second.
Or ever.
People tell me who I am,
piece me together with words like “kind” and “smart”
as if they’re building a puzzle
with half the pieces missing.
I nod, I smile, I play along,
because maybe if I hear it enough,
I’ll believe it.
Maybe if I fake it long enough,
it’ll feel real.
I stretch myself thin,
like paper worn soft at the edges,
held up to the light, hoping I’ll glow—
but I only tear.
I press my fingers to my face,
trace the curve of my cheek,
the line of my jaw,
as if I might find the answer in the shape of me.
But my skin is just skin,
my name is just a word,
and my voice—
God, my voice doesn’t even sound like mine.
I speak in echoes,
words bouncing back at me, warped,
like I never said them right the first time.
Or the second.
Or ever.
People tell me who I am,
piece me together with words like “kind” and “smart”
as if they’re building a puzzle
with half the pieces missing.
I nod, I smile, I play along,
because maybe if I hear it enough,
I’ll believe it.
Maybe if I fake it long enough,
it’ll feel real.
navirose
<3
words.
I wear my words like a dress
that's never quite the right size—
too tight in places
where I thought I could breathe,
too loose where I’ve tried to hold on.
But you, you say I’m beautiful.
I say I’m sorry.
I say,
Don’t look too closely—
there's a mess behind my eyes
that even I can’t fix.
So I’ll keep walking in circles,
barefoot on cracked pavement,
hoping the stones that get stuck
in the soles of my feet
might be something worth collecting.
I wear my words like a dress
that's never quite the right size—
too tight in places
where I thought I could breathe,
too loose where I’ve tried to hold on.
But you, you say I’m beautiful.
I say I’m sorry.
I say,
Don’t look too closely—
there's a mess behind my eyes
that even I can’t fix.
So I’ll keep walking in circles,
barefoot on cracked pavement,
hoping the stones that get stuck
in the soles of my feet
might be something worth collecting.
navirose
<3
roaches
we're all roaches in a kitchen
flickering light like broken dreams
the clock's always running
but we're just sitting here
waiting for something
we're all smoke in a breeze,
unsure if we're moving
or just being moved
bent like branches,
broken by the weight of words
we never wanted to hear
but learned by heart
the sun's still too hot
but we're too cold to care
we're all just sitting,
waiting for a breath to carry us out of here
the cracks in the ceiling
feel like the ones in my chest
too many things to say
but none of them seem to matter
we're all roaches in a kitchen
flickering light like broken dreams
the clock's always running
but we're just sitting here
waiting for something
we're all smoke in a breeze,
unsure if we're moving
or just being moved
bent like branches,
broken by the weight of words
we never wanted to hear
but learned by heart
the sun's still too hot
but we're too cold to care
we're all just sitting,
waiting for a breath to carry us out of here
the cracks in the ceiling
feel like the ones in my chest
too many things to say
but none of them seem to matter
