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Yanamari Jan 29
The night draws me back into myself
Quiet, contemplative
Soaking in the events of the day in my mind
All the words said and left unsaid
All of that which I share
And all of that which I withhold

And it does not mean that privacy does not beget openness
For underneath one,
two and
three layers are
many layers more
Should one reveal all
To invite disrepair many times more?

However, in my daily privacy
My heart joins too
I find myself distanced from
Those near me too
And I wish it were not the way it were
But I bide my time
Comfortable in my self-peace
Sara Barrett Jan 29
They tell her, it’s not their place.  
Say, he’s always been good to me.  
Say, she should have left sooner.

They say a lot of things,  
but never the ones that matter.  

Her black eye is a private matter.  
Her broken ribs, just a lover’s spat.  
Her ******? A tragedy—  
but never a crime until her name  
is trending in the headlines.  

When she packed her bags,  
they called her selfish for breaking the family.  
When she stayed,  
they called her weak for not leaving.  

But where was she supposed to go?  
Shelters with no room?  
A courtroom where his lies outweigh her bruises?  
A graveyard where they’d whisper,  
She should have known better?  

They say, not all men.  
Say, he was under stress.  
Say, he’s a good dad,
as if a man who leaves his children hungry,  
their mother in pieces,  
is anything but a walking threat.  

And you—  
the man who doesn’t hit,  
but laughs at the ones who do.  
The one who turns away when your friend grabs her wrist too hard.  
The one who stays silent when your coworker brags,  
"I keep my woman in line."  

You are part of this.  

You are why she doesn’t call for help.  
Why she learns to stitch her own wounds in silence.  
Why she dies and they ask what she did to deserve it.  

The system says, report him.  
Then calls her bitter.  
Then hands him weekends with the children—  
the same children he left cowering behind locked doors.  

And when she’s gone, they’ll ask:  
Why didn’t she say something?

But all she ever did was scream  
into a void of indifferent men,  
silent women,  
and a world that let her be hunted.  

So hear this now:  

If you know, speak.  
If you see, stop him.  
If you call yourself an ally, act.  

Because the only men who fear consequences  
are the ones who know they deserve them.
"Bruised by Silence, Built on Indifference" is a poignant and unflinching exploration of domestic violence and societal complicity. Through powerful imagery and stark language, the poem confronts the indifference that often surrounds victims of abuse, highlighting the painful realities they face when seeking help or escaping their situations.
The poem critiques the harmful narratives that blame victims for their circumstances while calling out those who remain silent or dismissive in the face of violence. It challenges readers to recognize their roles—whether as bystanders or enablers and urges them to take action against abuse rather than perpetuating a culture of silence.
With its raw emotional depth and compelling call to allyship, this piece serves as both a reflection on systemic failures and a rallying cry for change. It speaks directly to the heart of the struggle many women endure, making their pain visible and demanding that we all become part of the solution.
Maria Jan 27
I’m kissing your silence!
It’s so true and unfailed.
It is my escapement
Of not being shamed.

I’m kissing your voice!
For me it’s the world!
And when I depart,
Let it to moan.

I’m kissing you whole,
All wrinkles, all moles.
You are my safe refuge,
No doubts, no faults.
Together for a year, I thought I’d make my move,
But our first fight shook the groove.
You said, "It’s fine if we don’t talk anymore,
I’m fine without you," repeating it more.

This aggression, it stings, it stays,
Are you fine—or just fading away?
Immortality Jan 23
Him by my side,
lavender sky,
sun sinking low.

Hands intertwined,
Your warmth in mine,
thumb trace circles, divine.

Words unspoken,
but your eyes
told a thousand stories.
'those eyes' -  éblouissants....
Immortality Jan 23
Life’s like an old rose garden,
once blooming,
now withering.

Petals falling,
replaced by dry leaves,
wrapped in silence,
once so rare,
now so heavy.

I return home,
laughter ringing in ears.

But as the door shuts,
loneliness greets me,
like a cold, hazy mist,
or dark clouds that the stars resist.
Life is a really rollercoaster of emotions.... simple... :)
that loneliness always pulls me in after a vibrant party.... don't know why??...
Trinkets Jan 21
you are too loud
you should be quiet
you don’t have to
but only when you do
might they stop insulting you

your words are wrong
you should not speak
you could go on
but if you do
eyes will roll at you

your feelings are too large
you should make them smaller
you are allowed to have them
but if you don’t suppress
everyone will care much less

you are not like one should be
you should hide away yourself
you might sometimes visit
but if that is how you must behave
it makes sense they walk away

you think only wrong
you should see like normal
you may love your daydreams
but pretending more for reality
won’t grant you any sympathies

you assume too much importance
you should not exist like that
you should give up, be gone
but don’t walk away or leave
as that might hurt their feelings

you say there are no options left
you should know that life is easy
you feel tension building, in your throat
but just speak up, speak loudly
no one wants to own your suffocating
winter babies cry in the summer time – still thinking
about dying twice, still questioning this one life;
still questing to find still waters – still won’t we be
dying inside; drowning softy?

still silence – I don’t know my place; until I close
my eyes, and can’t see any of my shame. the moon gnaws
off a bit of myself – as putting on a brave face in the day,
is our nature.

we are lost lambs, that bleat themselves into silence.
Ayla Grey Jan 20
If I knew what love was
I'd throw the words like flower petals
I'd shout out it's beautiful essence
For the world to hear it's peace

But If I knew what love was
I'd know that words don't last forever
I'd know that flower petals die
And shouts are only heard for a second
Before they're silenced

So perhaps I do know what love is
Maybe It's finding a something in the void
Or finding the void in a something
before everything's gone
I've never been in love. So here's my interpretation
Maria Jan 19
I’m walking down the street alone.
My glance is listless into vacancy.
My heart is now a granite stone.
Nothing can hurt it more. It’s blessy.

I’m walking freely and no-fault.
I am alone and I’m forgiven.
For blind and reckless love for good,
For life devoid of mind and meaning.

I’m moving forward and don’t care
That nothing is in front and rear.
Only a silent emptiness is inside
No whisper and no groan… All died…

I’m walking quetly and slow.
I have no faith, no hope, no love.
My love is tired, weakened whole.
It moved away from here. No half.
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