RJ - Hello Poetry

RJ Jul 6

Closure

I waited for silence to speak,
for an apology wrapped in truth,
for the echo of her voice to say,
“You were right to love me — I was wrong to leave.”

But closure never comes in words we don’t hear.
It comes in accepting what was never said.
It lives in the quiet decision to
stop bleeding for someone who’s already healed.

I thought closure meant answers.
Now I know
it means no longer needing them.

It’s standing at the edge of a memory
and choosing not to fall in.
It’s hearing her name and
feeling nothing sharp.
Only space.
Only breath.

Closure isn’t the door she locked behind her.
It’s the one I just opened for myself.
No key.
No goodbye.
Just me
and peace
finally making eye contact.

RJ Jun 21

Where I Begin Again

I used to think healing
meant forgetting,
meant burying the past
like it never lived in me.
But I’ve learned
it means remembering without breaking.
It means growing
from the ashes,
not pretending there was never fire.

I don’t need closure from her.
I gave it to myself.
No apology,
no explanation,
just the quiet truth
that some people are chapters
not endings.

The mirror looks different now.
Not because I changed overnight,
but because I finally see
someone worth choosing
even if no one else does.

There’s strength in starting over.
There’s power in soft things
that refuse to stay broken.
And I’ve carried my scars
like seeds,
planted them deep,
and watched something bloom
where pain once lived.

This is not a rebound.
Not a distraction.
Not a mask.

This is me,
unlearning the ache,
rebuilding the soul,
making space
for a love that feels like home
without having to beg for the key.

So here I stand
not with regret,
but with grace.
Not with wounds,
but with roots.

This is where I begin again.
Not because I lost her,
but because I finally
found myself.

RJ Jun 20

Fragments Of a Silent Heart

In the quiet spaces between words,
I found echoes of a love once spoken.
Promises passed through screens,
now shattered in the silence of absence.

I wore my pain like a second skin,
hiding behind smiles that never reached my eyes.
Each scar a story untold,
each tear a memory fading.

But in the ashes of what was,
I discovered the strength to rebuild.
Not for them, but for me.
Not to forget, but to heal.

I apologize not for the battles fought,
but for the wars I waged within.
For the times I let the darkness win,
and for the light I almost lost.

Yet, here I stand,
a mosaic of broken pieces,
still searching for peace
in the fragments of a silent heart.

RJ Jun 19

Season of Growth

There was a time I called it love
the kind that hurt,
the kind that stayed too long,
the kind that taught me
to forget myself
just to keep someone else.

But love shouldn't
make you smaller
just to fit inside
someone else's heart.

I spent years watering
a garden she never planned to grow,
waiting for something to bloom
from soil already turned to stone.
And when she left,
I thought I was the one
who was empty.

But now,
the silence doesn't sting.
The memories don’t wear her perfume.
I see her face
without wondering if I could’ve done more.

Because I did
I gave more than I had,
and now I’m giving that back
to me.

I've learned that letting go
isn't giving up.
It's giving in
to what deserves space:
peace,
clarity,
a future that doesn’t wait
on someone who never stayed.

She was a lesson
not a loss.
A reflection of who I was,
not who I’ll become.

And maybe love didn’t last,
but growth did.
And I’m still here,
standing taller,
rooted deeper,
finally blooming
for myself.

RJ Jun 18

Last Page

This is the last time I write your name
with anything other than silence.
The last time I let memory
dress up as love
and climb back into my chest.

I gave you my teens
fifteen to Twenty—
years I can’t get back,
but years I no longer want.

You taught me how to ache,
how to beg without speaking,
how to love someone
who never chose me fully.
And in return,
I taught myself how to survive.

I held the door open
through every lie,
every “it didn’t mean anything,”
every look you gave
that wasn’t mine.

But now I see
you were a lesson,
not a lifetime.

You're a name with dust on it now,
a voice I don't chase in dreams.
You're not her anymore,
and I'm not him.

You chose your path.
You built your life.
And I'm finally walking out of the past
without waiting for you to follow.

So this is goodbye
not loud, not cruel,
just final.

No more poems.
No more “what ifs.”
Just peace
where your name used to live.

RJ Jun 18

She Chose Him

I remember her
blonde hair kissed by blue,
like she dipped her crown
in the sky
just to feel infinite.

Eyes the color of clear days,
but storms lived there
I just pretended not to drown.

We were a rhythm,
offbeat and breaking,
on again,
off again,
from fifteen to twenty,
I called it love.
She called when bored.

She said I was different
and maybe I was,
because I stayed
when I should’ve run,
believed her
when I shouldn’t have trusted
even the silence.

Two others.
Two names I never wanted to know.
She said they were “mistakes,”
but they both left fingerprints
on the life we tried to grow.

And now she’s married
to one of them.
Has a child
with his name,
while I’m still here
writing poems
just to remember
that I mattered,
once.

Was I never enough?
Or just too much of the wrong kind?
I gave her every soft part of me,
and she taught me
how it feels
to break quietly.

I see photos of them now—
smiling like we never existed.
And I wonder
if she ever thinks of me
when the baby cries,
or when her world gets quiet,
or if she locked me away
in the same box
where she kept all her
guilt.

Either way,
she chose him.
And I’m left
trying not to wonder
why.

RJ Jun 18

Blue Streaks and Summer Eyes

She moved like summer chasing light,
With golden hair and streaks of night
Blue slashed bold across her crown,
A storm disguised in a party town.

Her eyes were oceans—deep, untrue,
They pulled me in, then split in two.
I swore I saw forever there,
But she was never really where.

We crashed and kissed in cycles spun,
From 2014 to ‘19 done.
I called it love, she called it “try,”
But kept her truths beneath the lie.

While I held on, she held their hands,
Two others, promises like sand.
I stayed through storms, I played the fool
She broke the rules, rewrote the rule.

Still I believed, still I forgave,
Still I mistook the wound for brave.
Each time she left, I took her back,
Blind to the knife still in my back.

Now she wears a wedding ring
Not mine, but his… the other thing.
They’ve built a life, a child too,
While I sit ghosting in the blue.

Was I just training for her fate?
A stepping stone she learned to hate?
Or maybe love was never real
Just something broken she could feel.

I ask myself if I was weak,
Or just too human, far too meek.
Because part of me still aches, still tries
To forget her name
and her summer eyes.