deepundergroundpoetry.com
The Art of Disappearing
Once, I clung to love like a drowning tide,
Grasping at hands that would slip, divide.
A fragile soul in a tempest’s embrace,
Always reaching, yet out of place.
Now, I stand behind walls of stone,
Avoidant, distant—safer alone.
Trust in humans? A fleeting breeze,
Here one moment, gone with ease.
Love was a ghost, a cruel charade,
A promise made, then quickly betrayed.
It called itself safe, it whispered "stay,"
Yet every time, it walked away.
So I learned the art of moving fast,
Of leaving first, of cutting past.
You bare your heart? I disappear,
For emotions drown and love breeds fear.
I crave connection, but never too near,
Push it away before it gets clear.
It’s not that I don’t want to be held,
It’s that love has never truly compelled.
Hypervigilant, two steps ahead,
Dodging the traps, avoiding the dread.
I read between words, the silence, the space,
I map the exits just in case.
And even when love slips through my guard,
Touches my heart, leaves it scarred,
I'm reminded why I choose to flee—
Love is a wound that won’t let me be.
So I keep it moving, I don’t look back,
Emotions are weights that make hearts crack.
Even on nights when pain runs deep,
I turn away—I refuse to weep.
For safer is distance, colder is wise,
No broken hearts, no shattered skies.
Yet still, I wonder—just once—someday,
If love could find me and make me stay.
Grasping at hands that would slip, divide.
A fragile soul in a tempest’s embrace,
Always reaching, yet out of place.
Now, I stand behind walls of stone,
Avoidant, distant—safer alone.
Trust in humans? A fleeting breeze,
Here one moment, gone with ease.
Love was a ghost, a cruel charade,
A promise made, then quickly betrayed.
It called itself safe, it whispered "stay,"
Yet every time, it walked away.
So I learned the art of moving fast,
Of leaving first, of cutting past.
You bare your heart? I disappear,
For emotions drown and love breeds fear.
I crave connection, but never too near,
Push it away before it gets clear.
It’s not that I don’t want to be held,
It’s that love has never truly compelled.
Hypervigilant, two steps ahead,
Dodging the traps, avoiding the dread.
I read between words, the silence, the space,
I map the exits just in case.
And even when love slips through my guard,
Touches my heart, leaves it scarred,
I'm reminded why I choose to flee—
Love is a wound that won’t let me be.
So I keep it moving, I don’t look back,
Emotions are weights that make hearts crack.
Even on nights when pain runs deep,
I turn away—I refuse to weep.
For safer is distance, colder is wise,
No broken hearts, no shattered skies.
Yet still, I wonder—just once—someday,
If love could find me and make me stay.
Published 4th Apr 2025
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5th Apr 2025 00:08am
5th Apr 2025 4:23am
Hello old friend.
You would think we all would give up on love. It's hard, wanting to feel it's embrace. To have it feel within reach only to miss it by a hair.
You would think we all would give up on love. It's hard, wanting to feel it's embrace. To have it feel within reach only to miss it by a hair.
