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196 · Nov 2024
moonlit secrets
lizie Nov 2024
beneath the moon’s soft silver glow,
the tides reveal what hearts don’t show.
a fleeting whisper, a fragile tide,
secrets kept where dreams collide.
the fragile beauty of fleeting moments
191 · Feb 11
all i am
lizie Feb 11
i didn’t want to write another poem about cutting, but two days passed and i realized it’s all i am lately. i have been reduced to nothing.
im sorry
191 · May 10
nothing new
lizie May 10
open hello poetry
search your last name
click on your profile
check for new poems
(they’re not common
but they come in floods)
write poems
contemplate the what-ifs
feel immense sadness
(for no reason)
it’s nothing new
187 · Feb 7
im here now
lizie Feb 7
im here now
im not in the past
im here now
im not in the past
im here now
im not in the past
im here now
im not in the past
im here now
im not in the past
im here now
im not in the past
im here now
im not in the past
im here now
im not in the past
im here now
im not in the past
im here now
im not in the past
im here now
im not in the past
im here now
im not in the past
im here now
im not in the past
im here now
im not in the past
im here now
im not in the past
im here now
im not in the past
im here now
im not in the past
im here now
im not in the past
im here now
im not in the past
im here now
im not in the past
im here now
im not in the past
im here now
im not in the past
im here now
im not in the past
im here now
im not in the past
im here now
im not in the past
im here now
im not in the past
im here now
im not in the past
im here now
im not in the past
im here now
im not in the past
im here now
im not in the past
im here now
im not in the past
im here now
im not in the past
186 · May 24
Untitled
lizie May 24
i used to be a whole person,
but now fragments of me
are in living within
people i don’t call.
186 · Dec 2024
apologies
lizie Dec 2024
there’s a guilt i can’t explain,
an ache without a name,
like i’m sorry for something
i never became.
185 · Oct 2024
a heart too wide
lizie Oct 2024
i feel things too deeply
it’s just kind of the way i am
each laugh or each sigh
is a weight upon my heart
it’s like i can sense unspoken pain
within every crowded room
god i wish it didn’t have to be like this
i still remember what you said
why do you think
i stopped bringing lunch?
someone please make it end
it’s too much for me
my heart is too wide
just what im feeling right now
182 · Mar 19
strong
lizie Mar 19
i told you i was working out
and you said, “wait, you work out?”
you didn’t mean it like that,
of course,
but it still stung.
and you didn’t mean to hurt me,
but i can’t shake the feeling that i’m not enough.
i shouldn’t have to prove
that i’m strong enough
because i never am.
182 · Apr 9
sick
lizie Apr 9
sick to my stomach
this morning,
tired from putting up a mask
and denying the truth.
this isn’t fair
but mostly for you.
i’ve been feeling sick
but i should help myself
not call you.
nothing left to say
because we both know
we’re still not over it.
lizie Jun 26
i don’t want you
to worry.
i just want you
to stay.

i’ll say
i’m fine.
just don’t
go away.
180 · May 21
chaperone
lizie May 21
no one’s here
to guard the quiet,
no voice to say enough
when the silence
starts sharpening.

i wish i didn’t need
a chaperone for my sadness,
didn’t fear
what i might do
when left alone
with my own hands.
174 · Nov 2024
don’t be a stranger
lizie Nov 2024
your laugh still echoes, clear as day,
a melody i’d know miles away.
yet now, it’s distant, faint, untied,
like a shadow of the time we tried.

“don’t be a stranger,” you softly said,
but the weight of it filled me with dread.
isn’t it strange how that plea is spun
when the stranger’s thread has already begun?

a last act of desperation, so bare,
a whisper thrown into empty air.
we both knew what it really meant,
a way to hold on when the ties were spent.

now you’re someone i barely know,
a flicker of light from long ago.
i wonder, would you recognize me?
or has time blurred what used to be?

“don’t be a stranger,” the words still ache,
a promise we couldn’t help but break.
yet your laugh remains, sharp and true,
a stranger’s gift i still hold onto.
174 · Jul 20
what love costs
lizie Jul 20
i drain him.
i know it.
and still,
i stay.

i say i’m trying,
but really,
i’m cracking.
i’m drowning
with his lungs
in my chest.

next i’ll bleed
through his arms,
sob
through his eyes,
wreck
what’s left
of his heart.

i was never
meant
to be held.
172 · Dec 2024
jury of one
lizie Dec 2024
of all the people i’ve learned to disappoint,
none have been as cruel as me.
a jury of one, gavel in hand,
i recite my faults like scripture.

i live in a house i’ve built of mirrors—
every reflection a version i loathe.
the walls don’t crack,
but i do,
trying to escape the frame.

even my shadow turns its back.
ideas for a title?
168 · May 31
my sisters
lizie May 31
julie is soft strength,
a quiet kind of knowing,
she says “i love you” like breathing,
and means it every time.

manda is a wildfire,
messy and loud and full of heart,
she will fight the world for you,
and never ask for thanks.

livie is my reflection,
stormy one second, laughing the next,
she understands me in a way
that doesn’t need explanation.

they hold pieces of me
i forgot i gave away,
tiny, stubborn fragments
i’d never find alone.

they are not the same.
they are not always gentle.
but they are mine.

and they are everything.
167 · Dec 2024
control
lizie Dec 2024
the vacuum hums,
and i feel it in my chest—
a restless kind of anger,
like a match about to strike.

maybe it’s because the sound
reminds me of yelling,
of my mom’s voice tearing
through the air like it had teeth.
when i hear it now,
i want to scream back,
but there’s no one here to blame.

the only time i can stand it
is when my hands are on the handle,
when i’m in control of the noise.
maybe that’s the metaphor:
it’s not the sound,
but the power to make it stop.
164 · Feb 12
memory
lizie Feb 12
memory is not a photograph,
not a keepsake tucked in the back of a drawer.
it is water against stone,
wearing away, reshaping,
turning sharp edges into something smooth,
something unrecognizable.
i do not trust it.
it lies in soft whispers,
changing names, shifting colors,
blurring what was sharp, sharpening what was dull,
twisting the past into something that never was.
but forgetting is no mercy either.
i try to let go,
but memory is a house i still live in,
one with doors that do not lock,
windows that do not shut,
ghosts that refuse to move on.
every corner of this house is haunted,
rewritten and forever rearranged,
like when you called me beautiful,
and i had tears in my eyes,
you kept saying it and i didn’t believe it,
or did that even happen at all?
so i stay,
trapped between remembering and forgetting,
watching the walls crumble
as the echoes rewrite themselves.
163 · Jul 18
almost perfect
lizie Jul 18
for as long as i can remember,
i’ve been chasing perfect,
tight-laced, gold-star, quiet ache.
and for a while,
i think i caught it.

but i’m not perfect anymore.
i flinch too easy,
snap too fast,
leave texts unread,
pick at scabs that should’ve healed.

people still call me smart, kind, strong,
and i don’t correct them.
it’s easier to wear the mask
than explain the mess underneath.

i disappoint myself
in small, sharp ways,
forgetting, avoiding, breaking down.
i say “i’m fine”
because it’s faster
than confessing i’m not.

expectations stick like static,
even when no one says them out loud.
and i still feel guilty
for letting people love
someone i no longer recognize.
162 · Mar 17
a little hungry
lizie Mar 17
it’s totally okay to go to bed a little hungry

i tell myself
162 · May 14
flinch
lizie May 14
neat red lines
stacked in a column
on my upper thigh.
i remember how you
flinched
when you saw them.
it’s disgusting
but it’s me.
161 · Mar 27
maybe one day
lizie Mar 27
maybe one day, we’ll be stronger,
not measuring our worth in broken promises,
not testing our willpower like it’s a game
we were never meant to win.

maybe one day, the nights won’t stretch so long,
filled with caffeine and quiet ache,
or sharp edges and softer regrets,
as we wait for something to change.

i can’t promise to stop,
and neither can you,
but maybe one day,
we won’t have to.
156 · May 19
the room with no corners
lizie May 19
my sadness grows like ivy,
quiet, tenacious,
weaving itself through the seams of my ribs
until i mistake the ache
for architecture.

i wake in a room with no corners,
only echoes.
the air is damp with memory,
and something hums beneath the floorboards—
a sound like
what if.

rain leaks in through the ceiling
but never wets the ground.
i open the windows
to let in a sky that won’t look me in the eye.
it’s always dusk here,
somewhere between forgetting and too-late.

the mirror won’t speak anymore.
i ask it: am i still a girl
or just the shell she wore
before the flood?

in the dream,
i am made of wax
and someone keeps lighting matches.
155 · Feb 8
see through me
lizie Feb 8
i want someone to see through my mask,
to catch the lie when i say it,
to notice the way my hands shake
when i say i’m fine.

i want someone to look past the smile,
past the jokes, past the easy nods,
to press just hard enough
that i have no choice but to break.

because i think i need to.
because i think i want to.
because i don’t know how to ask.
it’s too much to ask for…
152 · 2d
Untitled
lizie 2d
i don’t want to be
alone
i don’t know what i’ll
do
151 · May 12
the shape of water
lizie May 12
i’ve become
the shape of water.
i mold to rooms
i don’t belong in,
fill cracks
in other people
just to keep from spilling.

no one sees
how close i am
to evaporation.
how heavy i feel
in a glass too full
of silence.

they think
i’m calm
because i don’t make noise,
but grief has no splash
when it sinks like this.

i’ve learned to drown
quietly.
150 · Dec 2024
happy
lizie Dec 2024
i felt
happy
today

i will not
let myself
ruin it
150 · May 17
why?
lizie May 17
why do some people feel so sad?
why am i one of those people?
149 · Feb 16
absence
lizie Feb 16
i used to need you like air,
sneaking away just to see your name light up my screen.
now i sit in the same room, same noise, same routine,
but without you, there’s nothing to run to.
instead, the cuts burn beneath my sweats,
a different kind of craving,
a different kind of absence.
i don’t reach for my phone anymore,
just press my hands to my legs and wait for it to pass.
im so sad
149 · Dec 2024
stillness
lizie Dec 2024
i think the world keeps spinning
but i haven’t moved in days
148 · Jun 7
11:11
lizie Jun 7
11:11,
and all i want
is for you to feel full
with the way i love you.
like maybe, for once,
i’m enough.
146 · Dec 2024
unspoken
lizie Dec 2024
he told me his sister tried to die,
and i sat there, silent,
holding my own secret like a stone
in my throat,
wishing i could tell him
but terrified he’d hate me for it.
145 · Jun 5
eye contact
lizie Jun 5
for once,
no one talked over me.
the air felt light.
we kept meeting eyes
across the noise.
not awkward,
just right.
143 · Nov 2024
endless loop
lizie Nov 2024
the morning sun fools you into hope
but then the afternoon drags you down
and nighttime leaves you feeling alone
mornings should be a fresh start
but it’s the same endless loop
143 · Mar 16
four summers ago
lizie Mar 16
i wish the air smelled
like summer did four years ago.
chlorine and asphalt after rain,
sunburnt skin and something sweet.

i spend each winter
longing for those days.
but when summer comes,
it never quite fits right,
like a song i used to love
but can’t remember the lyrics to.

my summers are okay now
but they feel like echoes,
fading, distant,
never loud enough
to drown out the missing.
lizie Jun 7
i feel like i’m never enough,
like no matter what i do,
it’s not enough to matter.
but at the same time,
i’m too much.
too intense,
too complicated,
too hard to handle.
it’s like i’m stuck in between,
too much, yet not enough.
and that makes me wonder
if i’m worth it at all.
143 · Jan 23
out of reach
lizie Jan 23
i’m easy to hold,
but impossible to reach
140 · Feb 15
a love poem
lizie Feb 15
somehow i knew
i was going to fall in love with you
even years before i did

everything between us
has always felt different
like every smile you give to me is sacred

i first felt it when i saw
the way your eyes shined in the sun
bright and full of promise

i knew it before i could admit it
before love had a name
and it was yours
in honor of valentine’s day
139 · May 29
i love you, i’m sorry
lizie May 29
i think about the version of us
that never broke.
the one where i stayed,
where i didn’t flinch at forever.

where you kissed me in april,
and we laughed about music,
and nothing hurt
unless it was from smiling too hard.

i love you,
i’m sorry.
137 · Feb 24
empty
lizie Feb 24
im running on empty
wish there was a way out
137 · Feb 11
anything but this
lizie Feb 11
i am trying to be okay.
i am trying to be anything but this.
but my hands shake, my mind spins,
and i wonder if i was ever whole to begin with.
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