It was not a solo journey, It was meant for both of us to keep. A path shared, a mutual destiny, A bond where promises run deep. We walked side by side, our footprints one, A single narrative of hope begun.
But the story broke, the path was closed, I stood on the chasm’s crumbling brim, As a silhouette, slowly transposed Into the inevitable, growing dim. The ‘we’ became an ‘I’, a hollow sound, In this desolate, forsaken ground.
Ashes and dust are all that stay Of the bright fire we held in trust, A barren landscape, grey today, Where life dissolved in the air’s cruel gust. The physical presence is no more, Leaving the grit of loss upon the floor.
Then voices come from the periphery, Offering platitudes in careful phrase. They say, “It is not personal, you see,” A necessary turn in cosmic haze. A consequence, unavoidable and stark, A wheel that turns and leaves no malice mark.
They speak these words, so cold and clinical, To soothe a wound they cannot comprehend. Do they expect a heart, now critical, To take this lie, this foolishness they send? To call abandonment ‘impersonal’ then claim It takes the searing edges from the pain?
It is a construct, fragile and designed To shield their own complicity from view. Lies and more lies are spun to leave behind Their failures of commitment, wholly true. The architects of ruin hide their face, Behind the veil of fate or bureaucratic space.
They see my silence and begin to doubt, Why I won’t trust their flimsy, weak assurance; They wonder why my quiet stays throughout Their clumsy, hollow show of endurance. Is their concern a genuine desire to know The depth of the betrayal’s silent blow?
Or is the query just a social art, A reflex uttered in a scripted play? Do they care for me, the broken, scattered part, Or am I just a failure they wish away? I let the fine, particulate dust stream in— The dust of forgetting, where true wounds begin.
I scan the empty space, a vacant stare, Where is the circle that was meant to hold? I know they exist, breathing their own air, In parallel worlds of comfort, brave and bold. Not here with me, not for me in this plight, Not in the core of this seismic, lonely night.
It was meant to be the two of us, you see, Walking the sunset, weathering the storm. The fundamental premise of our entity. But I was left alone, without the warm, Not just abandoned, but deliberately selected For solitary confinement, unprotected.
A cold clarity begins its slow, strange birth, The isolation may not be a curse, But a final, hard-won gift of self-worth. Maybe it’s best to sift these ashes terse, Unbound by promises that turned to frail dust. In this quiet, hard-won peace is final trust.
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.
A steady beacon, you appear, When shadows gather and I fear The path ahead is lost and gone In darkness where I walk alone. The sole voice of my reason’s plea, The anchor of reality, When the world spins with chaotic strife, You are the breath that restores my life. A silent force, you bring me peace, A quiet, beautiful release.
Let tempests rage and gales descend, Let the harsh winds their fury lend. Let towering waves crash on the shore, Threatening to consume all. Yet, armed with our bond’s deep might, We will endure, we will unite. Unbroken, we will conquer all, Our spirit standing strong and tall. A lighthouse in the darkest squall, Together, we will never fall.
While others scatter sparks of joy, And fill my days without alloy, Their collective light, a vibrant beat, Is not the power to complete. They give my life its rhythm’s art, And cause the beating of my heart. But it is you, the vital source, The enduring love, the steady force, That keeps my heart on its true course. You are the reason for life’s continuance, The core, the heart of my existence.
I miss you, friends, across the miles,
I miss your laughter, smiles, your tales.
I miss our talks, our games, our fun,
I miss the way we used to run.
I miss the way you made me smile,
I miss the way you made me feel.
I miss the way you always knew
How to make me laugh and do.
I miss you when I'm all alone,
I miss you when I'm feeling down.
I miss you all the time, you know,
I miss you more than words can show.
I am working on new ways to promote my writing. I saw this on TikTok and I thought I would try it on one of my own poems. This one is short because I made it for Tiktok but I am making them longer. I try to do 30 minutes for writing sprints and then 8 hours to help people sleep or if they are writing all day.
Life is too short by Nancy Ann Creed (Rambling of My Heart)
You made it this far.
A milestone has been reached.
Your off to great places
Off and away.
You're on to new things.
New adventures await.
Exciting choices, a new world opens.
You will reach the stars.
The world is open to you.
Reach for the stars,
Destiny is calling.
