Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 Jun 30 eliana
badwords
Leaving the mirror feels like walking out of a shadow,
You try to piece together the fragments,
Accepting they will never mirror you again.
Some might say it’s your fault,
But it feels like walking through life
With a quiet strength where there once was emptiness.
Solitude.
Acceptance.
Self-compassion.
Growth.
Patienc­e.
Stillness.
Gratitude.
Understanding.
Trusting your own reflection.
No longer seeking validation,
No longer seeing yourself in others.
The image was false,
But the truth is clearer now,
The quiet voice that was always there,
Unshaken.
The grief fades—
Not gone, but transformed.

Strength.
Awareness.
A new beginning.
~for Ghost

https://hellopoetry.com/poem/4968322/trauma-bond/

I wrote this in a style to mirror the framing of the original as closely as possible in solidarity for recounting my own experiences in a similar situation.


Broken Mirror explores the emotional journey of self-realization and healing following a toxic relationship. The poem reflects on the experience of losing a relationship that was built on validation rather than genuine connection, symbolized by the shattered mirror. The narrator, once dependent on external affirmation, finds themselves confronted with the stark emptiness left behind when that mirror is broken. As they struggle with feelings of solitude and grief, a quiet transformation begins, one that shifts from confusion to self-awareness.

Throughout the piece, the poem traces a movement from pain, isolation, and self-doubt toward acceptance, self-compassion, and ultimately empowerment. The narrative journey mirrors the internal process of healing, where the protagonist learns to stand on their own without relying on others for validation, embracing their true self amidst the fragments of the past. By the end of the poem, the narrator no longer seeks validation from external sources but instead discovers strength in their own reflection, marking the beginning of a new, more authentic chapter in their life.

The poet aims to capture the emotional complexity of a relationship defined by narcissistic dynamics, while also offering a hopeful perspective on self-reclamation. The poem invites readers to witness the pain of losing a validating reflection but also celebrates the transformative process of reclaiming one's true identity in the aftermath.
 Jun 30 eliana
CantSeeMe
I keep saying it will be okay
cause you are everything I need these days

you say you're a disappointment
when I think you're a treasure

you say you can't handle everything
when I think you already do

you say you're not atlas…
when I think you’re my sky

I look at your face
you hit me with your eyes
and I understand that
it's hard to be

you ask for help
and I waited
for this moment
longer than I could remember
begging to help
someone
who wanted to dive
and drown
ending life

cause I believe
sometimes there are those beautiful things
down in the sea
coral they name
deep down you’ll see

and I believe
you can get lost in their beauty
but if you stay too long
you will drown
before you even feel you’ve gone down

and I believe
that admiring the beauty of the darkness isn't the fall
but touching is, when you lose it all

you say you're weak
when I think you're strong

you say you want love
a reaching hand
when I just hope
mine is enough

and I believe
oh I believe
that
I just need to try
even when
trying feels like drowning tho
Based on the song "You Say" by Lauren Daigle
I know this song is about reaching out to God.
But I just thought....
Sometimes,
we want a person to help us so badly, thinking that person will fix everything. But what if that person is just trying?
Just doing something in the hope it will fix, not knowing what’s right or wrong,
just… trying
Your scars,
Deep rivers,
Etched with veins and blood.

Your storm,
A raging fire on your ship,
Screams hidden
Beneath the fiery roar.

It's YOUR fire,
A smoldering core
Of you—
Born from your heart,
Soul,
Experiences,
People you meet.

It's your flame,
A fierce flame,
Licking at your weaknesses,
Boarding your ship
And burning it—
Not giving up the fight.

You're not broken,
Only shaped by your fire—
So is your boat.

You're reborn,
Shaped like molten metal
Through your wildest flame.

Your story is never "soft"—
It's your sword,
Carved from
New-found courage,
Love,
Hate, and strength
After each rebuild.

We all break,
But then we bloom,
Like dandelions
Bursting through
Cracked concrete—
They stay alive no matter
How many times they get crushed.

You can rise
From blood—
The crimson ink
Is now your story.
You shed
It all
As your power
Of writing.

The sky will
Turn blue,
Washing away
Raging waves
Who roar
Like the largest lion.

Cotton ball clouds
Will patch your wounds,
Gently soothing
Your battered heart—
Shattered boat.

We'll all come together,
Helping to build
Your sails back up,
From frayed, worn threads,
Repairing the wooden boards
With boards
Like bones,
Holding strength inside.

Your storm is beautiful,
Just like you.

It's your storm—
We'll be here --always--
To help you fight through.
 Jun 30 eliana
Kalliope
I wash myself with water,
you find too hot to touch
But it soothes my aching muscles and
my tired soul so much
Relaxation is becoming me,
with eucalyptus in the air,
Soothing all my senses while I
lather it through my hair
Jelly bean body scrub in hand,
everything smells sweet
Exfoliating the day from my being, removing myself from defeat
Rubbing circles along my jaw to massage away exhaustion,
high pressured heat to free my shoulders of the burden they carry so often
Body oil to top it off,
strawberry my favorite choice
It's hard to hate yourself when you smell so good,
but it's easier to find my voice
It’s just soap and steam and strawberry oil, but it feels like a ritual to remind my body she’s worthy of being loved ✨️
 Jun 30 eliana
Lynn Stillman
I have many scars
But they all tell a story
They are my tattoos.
What is the value of a life
Of a husband or a wife 
Of a daughter or a son.

Do these labels give value to one,
More so over the other?

Is a wife less valuable than a mother,
A father more valuable than a son?

Does value rise or fall
as one becomes another?

Surely every life can't be worth the same!
Can it?

 I wonder.
Is a peasants life,
of less value than a kings!

Or does Status, Creed, Race, or Color,
truly, not mean a **** thing?

It is true that I would place my
wife, my son, and my brothers
life over that of another.

But that value is given to them only by me.
No life is worth more
than any other in reality.

Yet until we can open
our hearts and minds to see.

The true value of life will never be!
Debuted this one at our poetry reading last night
Next page