I never thought it would come to this,
You there—me stuck here.
I cannot even move—frozen—
What can I even really begin to say?
It isn’t supposed to be like this.
This isn’t truly who I am—
Who I am supposed to be
As I watch you—no, stare at you—
With a lasting longing only felt
By ghosts who linger in loss,
Or by those for whom
Loss is the lingering.
I trace your soul with sliced eyes,
Those onion-lines obscuring my view.
I remember you just as you were...
as you are.
Loving, caring, compassionate—
Genuine, giving, gracious—
You really were...
Are those things...
No more.
Not permanently erased,
But phantom muscle memories of
Holographic images—
Likenesses that remind me
Of those times—that era—
When I was open to the whole world
Even as that world weaponized
My own heart against
Me.
I never thought I’d be here,
Staring at you in the mirror
As if you were in a hospital bed
And I, a looking-glass governor
Seeing the innocence dying
Like embers in the morning light,
I pause—weep—
For I must now let you go, my love.
The time has come for you
To fly away
This night.
Even as fright comes in death,
And I never got to love you
The way I should have—
The way I cursed you,
Hated you for what others did,
Berated you for being bullied,
Belittled you for being punished,
Guilted you as if you were gutless,
Flagellatd you with ferocity
For fear
Others were right,
That you were wicked,
Worth being whipped like cream,
Isolated in a frost-bitten dream,
Left to scream into the deaf void.
I never said I loved you
Because I never believed
I was worth love
And, now that I know I am,
I can only learn to love
The me I have become—
Not run away back into my own
Self-hate.
I hope it is not too late to try;
I am scarred, I miss you—
I really don’t want you to die.
But I must go, leave, be gone.
Keep my love,
You should have had it all along.
To you,
Former me,
Rest in peace,
I pray you are finally free.
© 2026 Tristan Robert Lange. All rights reserved.
First published on tristanrobertlange.com, January 24, 2026.
Tittu
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Author:
Tristan Robert Lange (
Offline) - Published: January 24th, 2026 08:14
- Comment from author about the poem: I’m published in an anthology featuring authors from across the Poconos, PA. All proceeds benefit the Pocono Liars Club — a collective of authors and editors dedicated to supporting and mentoring local writers. Available in paperback and Kindle, please consider purchasing one and supporting a great cause. https://a.co/d/58uxM69
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Comments2
Wow.What a compelling piece! Your poem transported me to the room where you lay in bed; your performance was captivating. Kudos to your remarkable writing skills. The poem explores the complex relationship between the poet and their former self, highlighting themes of self-acceptance, loss, and the struggle to relinquish past identities. It conveys a sense of mourning for the self that once was, while also suggesting hope for healing and transformation. Yet the Poet's introspection regarding their past identity, the emotional turmoil experienced due to self-hatred, and the realization that to move forward, they must confront and release their former self. The poem captures the pain of loss, both of self-love and the innocence of youth.
Don't scare me like that my old heart can't take it. This poem seems a recognition of the death of an old self and the birth of a new one that now bids farewell to the old ( grieving? mourns? but bids adieu at any rate) this in one sense is a common phenomena of growth in all of us. Onion eyes, each layer a layer of growth, Knowledge comes with pain that innocence that was once bliss has turned to an adult view of tragedy and how one might weep and wish to return to childhood and its simple joys and fantasies but the genie it is out of the bottle, Pandora's box has been opened and these things can not be returned to how they were. Well done Tristan
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