They did not say
the season had changed.
No wind announced it,
no lantern was lit
only the subtle shift of shadows
in a house I once called mine.
They did not say
the door had closed behind me.
Nor did they warn
that its hinges had grown stiff
from disuse.
They did not say
the hearth had been relit
for someone else.
I arrived to warmth
that was not meant for me.
Words were spoken
welcoming, kind
yet each syllable
fell like petals on glass.
Beautiful, but never reaching me.
I sat where I was told I belonged,
yet the air around me
remained unfamiliar.
My name echoed,
but the walls did not respond.
I had been gone too long.
Or perhaps
they had simply moved on
without waiting.
Still, I stayed.
For what was memory,
if not a thread
pulled taut by longing?
I faltered once
raised my voice
not in hatred,
but in grief.
Grief for the place I once held,
for the silence that replaced it.
And I spoke truths
that wounded,
because they had first wounded me.
Yet even as the house forgot me,
a smaller light emerged.
New, unknowing,
unburdened by what came before.
This light reached for me
without hesitation.
Without context.
Without history.
And in his gaze,
I was not an afterthought.
I was not a stranger.
I was seen.
Thus, I remained.
Though I had not been told,
though I had not been prepared
something within those quiet,
unassuming moments
offered me a place again.
Not the same place
but a real one.
And perhaps that,
at last,
was enough.
Got it! Here's a more casual, internet-style version — no dashes, just natural flow like you're talking to your followers or typing in a personal post:
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i wrote this bc this just happened. like not a long time ago. it’s still sitting heavy in my chest.
my dad and stepmom told me super late that they were having a baby. like way into the pregnancy. and i hadn’t seen my dad for years bc of the pandemic and visa stuff, so when he dropped the news, it was kind of like oh. okay. guess that’s happening.
and yeah, i already felt kinda left out by my stepmom before. i don’t think she means to, but i never really felt part of the picture. more like a visitor. and hearing about the baby just made all those feelings louder. like i was watching them start a new family, and i was... not in it.
so i wrote the poem. bc what else do you do when you’re feeling too much and no one’s asking?
it’s not to be dramatic or anything. just to get it out. to say something real that i didn’t know how to say out loud. and maybe also to remind myself i still deserve to feel things. even the messy ones.
