Please stop!
Is it the way I hold the door?
The silence where I should have spoken?
Is it the softness at my core
That makes you want to leave it broken?
Do you mistake my grace for glass,
Something brittle, made to shatter?
Do you watch the hours pass,
Deciding that I do not matter?
What is the map you’ve drawn of me—
What hollowed space, what yielding light—
That makes you feel so wild, so free,
To sharpen teeth against the night?
Is it my blood, or is it yours?
The need to see if I will bend?
You pace before my open doors
To see just where I finally end.
I offer peace, you offer stone;
I offer a room, you offer a wall.
What seed of hate have you outgrown—
And did you think I wouldn't fall?
I am not made of fragile things,
Though I have let you think it true.
I’m tired of the dust that clings
To every cruelty I took from you.
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Author:
Friendship (
Offline) - Published: May 1st, 2026 05:35
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 11
- Users favorite of this poem: Friendship, Tristan Robert Lange, Cindy
Offline)
Comments4
This is a classic dysfunctional relationship.Very well crafted and expressed.The reader wold wish the relationship be resolved.Interesting
Thank you
Dearest Friendship, that contrast of offering peace and receiving stone really stays with me. It’s so simple, but it carries the whole weight of the piece…that imbalance, that constant giving into something that won’t return it. That moment lands heavy. Strong piece, my friend. 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
Thank you, my friend. I hope all is well🌹
Powerful piece, Friendship. Excellent write!
thank you
A tough deal and yet so real to what we face on a daily basis🙏🏻🕊️
Thank you
Welcome
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