The Bloodline Ends with Me πŸ’”

Donteatmecows

I have carried my hurt like a quiet storm,

years of thunder no one ever heard πŸ˜”

And now the ache rises in me like a tide,

begging for a gentleness I’ve never felt πŸ’”πŸ’¦

I imagine her sweetness the way a starving man imagines bread—

not as fantasy,

but as something my body remembers even though it never had it 😣

A hand in my hair,

a touch meant to calm the trembling inside me,

a softness that doesn’t ask me to earn it or prove the depth of my suffering πŸ’”πŸ˜’

Just tenderness, given because she sees the weight I’ve carried and doesn’t turn away 😞

I don’t need saving. I don’t need miracles. I just need one moment where someone’s warmth reaches the places that have been cold for too long πŸ’”πŸ₯€

And maybe one day, when the world is quiet, I’ll feel that softness for real— not imagined, not borrowed from movies, but living, breathing, finally mine πŸ˜”πŸ’”

  • Author: Lewis O’Carroll (Pseudonym) (Offline Offline)
  • Published: September 26th, 2026 17:41
  • Category: Nature
  • Views: 11
  • Users favorite of this poem: Cheeky Missy
Comments +

Comments1

  • sorenbarrett

    A need and anticipation of receiving it. A romantic request. Nicely done

    • sorenbarrett

      You are most welcome, that is very sad



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