Lyric Haven

Introduction: Some people don’t cry—not because they’re numb, but because the ache has been folded into them like a letter no one will read. This poem is for those who are told to “let go” before they’re even ready to hold what they feel. It speaks for the quiet mourners, the silent strugglers, and the ones who’ve learned that sometimes, holding on is the only way to stay whole. They say, “Let go. Just cry. Breathe it out,” as if release were a faucet we could twist at will— as if tears don’t get jammed in the throat like apologies we never learned to say. But some of us hold on, not because we love the ache, but because the ache is all we’ve got that still feels real. We store our sorrow like love letters we can’t burn— crease-folded memories pressed in silence— because even pain has a pulse, and letting go sometimes feels like dying twice. So if I don’t weep when you think I should, if I smile with a tremble behind my teeth, know this: I’m not heartless— I’m haunted. I’m just someone...

Introduction: Some wounds don’t bleed; they linger in echoes, in shattered reflections of who we used to be. This poem speaks of the pieces of ourselves that break but never fully disappear. It is about how the guards are raised when someone is repeatedly shattered but finds that one companion - their shadow to guide them to embrace themselves, Another betrayal struck him today,  A familiar chuckle echoing dismay;  Still haunted by wounds of the past undone,  One more heartbreak was far too much to shun. He sighed as he wandered down the street,  Then spied his shadow at his feet;  For a moment hope stirred within his chest—  This silent friend he trusted best. Yet again his heart was rent in two,  As his shadow, too, broke the truth it knew;  When twilight fell and darkness reigned supreme,  That loyal echo shattered its own dream. Isolated and weary beneath the starry gleam,  He waited while sorrow flowed like a stream;  Tea...