Sometimes I wonder
if you only reach for me
when your hands come back empty.
And I hate that the thought
even crosses my mind,
because loving you as a friend
has never felt difficult.
But lately,
I feel worn thin—
like I exist in the spaces
where everyone else leaves you.
I listen,
I stay,
I carry pieces of you
you never notice become heavy.
And I’m happy to be your friend,
I really am.
I just miss feeling like
you wanted
to be my friend too.
-
Author:
Nevermore (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: May 25th, 2026 03:21
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 19
- Users favorite of this poem: Tristan Robert Lange
Offline)
Comments2
Relationships are often one way. This seems stated in this write. Well said
Raven, wow…there’s such a quiet heartbreak in this piece, my friend. What makes it powerful is how restrained it remains the entire time. No anger…no dramatic collapse…just the slow ache of realizing you may matter most when others disappear. And that final longing to feel chosen in return lands beautifully and painfully at once. Wonderful work, my friend. 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
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