The Unwritten Lessons of Connection

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The Unwritten Lessons of Connection

I lost the ones I thought would be
An immutable part of my life’s tapestry,
Woven forever. Their sudden fraying left
A hollow space, of laughter now bereft.
A loss not just of presence, but of promised time,
Of futures guaranteed, of permanence sublime.

I lost the endless, open channel’s flow,
The casual intimate, the profound talk’s low.
The message history remains, a silent tomb,
But the living dialogue has met its doom.
I lost the shared language, the inside joke’s release,
The easy flow of thought that came with sustained peace.

I lost. And yet, a nagging question stays:
How to reclaim it all through monumental days?
More honest now, a deeper query rings:
Do I want the fragments back, the broken things,
Or is this void an opportunity instead,
For a different, stronger rebuilding from the dead?

I am Socially Impaired, a deep deficiency,
No compass for connection’s subtle geography.
I cannot decode the rules that ever shift,
To make a friend, or keep one from the drift.
No knowledge of the delicate dance to start,
Nor sustained effort to hold a drifting heart.

The world outside, a dizzying, digital torrent,
Of career demands, and social lives hyper-currant.
My mind, a labyrinth of static and confusion,
Makes reaching out a Herculean illusion.
The busy world’s quick rhythm, my slow, internal pace,
Exacerbate the disconnect in this human space.

I am Socially Impaired, an alien I feel,
A non-native in a world that seems unreal.
Effortless for others, each social interaction
Requires exhausting, conscious translation.
Lost in this world of confusion, inescapable, vast,
The mechanics of connection hold me fast.

What proper alchemy transforms the passing name,
An acquaintance pleasant, into a trusted flame?
What ritual’s required to solidify the friend,
To confidant and pillar, on whom one can depend?
How to tend this garden so it thrives, not withers thin?
The vital lessons of these bonds were never written in.

In this struggle, I lost my authentic self’s deep call,
My unique longings muffled by the noise of it all.
Lost beneath the effort to be what others sought,
My own desires indistinct, in the battles fought.

I lost the subtle nuances, the unspoken art,
The reading of the body, the comforting hand’s part.
The effortless mirroring of mood, the perfect timing’s grace,
The tools that equip others to master social space.
Without them, I operated blind in the dense fog,
Lost in isolation’s self-doubt, like a log.

But then a tectonic shift occurred within the night,
The fog dispersed, pierced by an internal light.
The finding was no external, sudden grace,
But a revelation born from that empty space.

I Found a core of unshakeable strength inside,
No longer contingent on where others reside.
A self-sustaining power, a bedrock I possess,
To hold and to rely upon in times of stress.

I Found new forms of connection, soul-deep and true,
With people who truly see me, and see me anew.
Bonds built on mutual resilience, not proximity’s plea,
These are the conversations that will not end for me.

I Found a powerful, relentless love, not on condition,
A self-acceptance, a profound self-compassion.
No longer scanning horizons for where worth has fled,
I carry the source within, in the words I have said.
It is a love that will not quit, a permanent estate,
A fortress built from inside, sealed by my own gate.

https://books2read.com/u/m25Ygd

The Shattered Image

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The Shattered Image

The depth of my disappointment is immense,
I truly thought you were a person of integrity,
Whose every action would align, with no pretense,
With the strong character you seemed to be.
“I thought you were better” is too mild to say;
I saw in you a loyalty I sought to find,
A moral standard now just dust and clay,
A shattered image of a perfect mind.

The thing you did, or failed to do, you see,
Was not a simple letdown; “it crushed me” whole.
It was a devastating blow to my reality,
A chasm swallowing my trusting soul.
I had invested trust and boundless hope,
An extraordinary quantity of “faith in you,”
To find it misplaced, I now must grope,
A personal failure, though the fault is true.

Our bond, which I so dearly held and prized,
Was based on a belief in shared pure light.
“I thought we were actually friends,” I realized,
Now every memory feels contaminated, blight.
Each moment shared, each secret I confessed,
Feels poisoned by the knowledge I now hold,
That “that’s a lie, and it’s always been a lie,” unblessed.
A friendship’s illusion, turning cold.

My estimation of you reached the stars,
“Maybe I thought more highly of you than you think of yourself.”
I held you past your self-imposed high bars,
More than you were capable of from your shelf.
I believed you held a goodness and a strength,
A beautiful essence that does not exist.
“Maybe I thought more of you than you truly are,” at length,
The gap between the ideal and the actual persists.

My admiration wasn’t born from my own plight,
For I appreciated what I thought you were.
I never claimed perfection, or to be the light:
“I don’t think I am special; I thought you were.”
I know my faults; I am not so grand:
“I don’t think I am great; I thought you were.”
My self-regard is low, I understand:
“I don’t think highly of myself, but I thought highly of you.”

The burden of this pain, in a dark way,
Rests on my shoulders for this foolish crime.
“I guess I was wrong to put that much faith in you,” I say.
The name of “friend” was sacred, but I wasted time:
“I guess I was wrong to call you a friend.”
My error was this desperate, naive dream,
That you would prove me right until the end:
“I guess I was wrong; I wanted you to be better.”

And so I cycle through this self-inflicted doubt,
Were my expectations too far out of reach?
“I guess I was wrong, maybe it’s just me,” I shout.
But the ultimate truth that the facts now preach:
“I guess I was wrong; I put too much faith in you.”
I took your potential for your very core:
“I guess I was wrong, believing in you,” it’s true.
I can’t believe in you anymore.

The desolate conclusion is the clear refrain:
“I guess I was wrong.” A simple, crushing sound.
For in your actions, truth gives way to pain:
“I guess I meant nothing to you” that I have found.
The end of my faith is the end of what we were.

https://books2read.com/u/m25Ygd

The Illusion of Kinship

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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,

Required to keep a true bond in the heart.

https://books2read.com/u/m25Ygd

The Unspoken Question of Worth

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The Unspoken Question of Worth

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.

https://books2read.com/u/m25Ygd

To My Husband

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To My Husband

Before you, love was just a word,
A whisper in a song I’d heard.
A fragile thing, I couldn’t grasp,
A fleeting moment, meant to pass.

But then you came, a steady light,
And chased away the lonely night.
You showed me love, so pure and true,
A constant, gentle, me and you.

No grand gestures, just quiet grace,
A loving look upon your face.
A hand to hold, a shoulder near,
Dispelling every doubt and fear.

You see the best in who I am,
And love me, flaws and all, I am.
You lift me up when I am down,
And paint my world in colors known.

You are my rock, my safe harbor,
The one I’ll love forever after.
With you, I know what love can be,
A precious gift, eternally.

So thank you, love, for all you are,
My shining star, my guiding star.
You showed me love, in every way,
And brighten up my every day.