Mesentire

04/05/2026

the first real thing

I lived half awake for years,
feeling flickers, wishing for flame,
telling myself that the hollow
was love, not another's game.

I kept shrinking,, to fit inside each room,
like a hand inside a glove
mistaking being tolerated
for something built from love

I learned to live on breadcrumbs,
on silence dressed as care,
no way of finding my way home
even though I was always there

I named it my devotion
it was an act, to please them all
and became a version of me
that just left me feeling small

And then you came, a steady breath,
soft as truth, and sharp as light
you walked on in like the first real thing
that my heart has ever got right.

You didn’t ask me just to vanish,
you didn’t need me still or small
you saw the parts that I had buried
and you said you loved them all

You met me where I broke,
not to fix me, but to stay
and I learned that what really matters
is that you loved me anyway

Now everything before you
feels paper thin, and so unreal
a life I tried, just to survive
instead of one that I could feel.

Because loving you is different:
it’s solid, warm, it’s mine
and for the first time in my life to date
I’m not searching for a sign.

I’m finally feeling so understood.
I’m finally being seen.
And finally I've begun to learn
what love was always meant to mean.

26/04/2026

The things I never said

I swallowed whole the parts of me
that trembled to be heard,
kept every instinct caged inside
and silenced every word.
I told myself that holding back
was safer than to speak,
and with strength I buried everything
yet that left me feeling weak.

I carried expectations
like a weight across my chest,
pretending I was built for calm
while chaos caused my inner stress.
I made myself the steady one,
the one who'd never break
and labelled every flicker
of emotion as mistake.

I learned to read every room
before I ever read myself,
put up no fight, stayed out of sight
and left my feelings on the shelf.
I shaped my voice to fit the space
that others left for me,
and called that being thoughtful
but it was captivity.

I softened every warning sign
that told me I was strained,
I denied, then cast aside
parts of me left unnamed.
I let discomfort settle
in the corners of my mind,
and told myself that speaking up
was selfish, harsh, unkind.

I taught myself endurance
like a virtue carved in stone,
patience became parasite
which gnawed flesh from my bone.
I let the world believe
I didn’t flinch beneath its weight,
and acted like I wasn't lost,
when I couldn't navigate.

I kept my heart on lockdown
each and every shattered shard,
trained myself to dim my needs
the moment things got hard.
I wore composure like a mask
that fused itself to skin,
and called the ache beneath it “strength”
instead of what had worn me thin.

I’m angry now, and I'll admit
I still can't find the words to say
that I'm tired of feeling absent
though I never went away.
I’m angry for all of the years,
in which my will was bent,
for every “yes” my smile suggested
when "no" was what my tears meant

I’m angry that I taught myself,
that love meant I had to hide,
parts of me, a mystery,
the parts you pushed aside.
But anger’s truth, and truth is free
and true freedom can't be fake.
The real of me, is still here you see
and the futures mine to take

So here I stand, no longer mute
no longer hidden, and not led.
No longer cursing at the worst of me
with all the things I never said.
I'm done with leaving me till last
I’m done with shrinking just to cope
I now insist, I MUST exist
this anger is my quiet hope.

~Mesentire

25/04/2026

soft catastrophes

I’m made of soft catastrophes,
of almosts, maybes, used‑to‑be’s.
I hold on to hope like fragile glass
that cuts me deep, with every grasp.

I walk through days with borrowed light,
a quiet war of day and night.
I give voice to dark, with whispered lies
that hold me 'til the next sunrise.

I love too hard, and fall too fast,
bulding futures from the past.
And though I try to let things go,
the scars remain, always on show.

I trace each one, but give no name,
they plant their roots in silent shame.
blooming there, beneath my skin
reminders of wars I can't win

Rainbows of grey that form my name
from shadowed sun, regret filled rain.
Faith fades fast, like dreams at dawn
No shelter, for I am the storm

I fold my fears in paper boats,
set them adrift to watch them float.
They sink the moment they depart
shipwrecked to depths within my heart.

I keep on missing what won’t stay,
nostalgia always finds a way.
A quiet ache, a tired plea,
the soft catastrophes of me.

I’m tired of saying "I’m okay",
pretend I'm fine, a hundred ways.
Dismissive smile to cover tracks
a falsehood forged, to not face facts

I wake up heavy most days now,
not sad exactly… just worn down.
I try to move, to walk, to free
myself from what won't let me be

I miss the me I used to be,
the one who breathed more easily.
Now every thought's a knotted rope
frayed from days I couldn't cope

I want to rest, but can’t slow down,
I want to speak, but choke somehow.
I want to cry, but tears are numb
I want to feel, but nothing comes.

I keep on trying to be strong,
but weakness wins, weighs up each wrong
And every time I fall apart,
I lose more pieces of my heart.

I wish that someone understood
how hard it is to feel this stuck.
How much it takes to simply be
the soft catastrophes of me.

~Mesentire

25/04/2026

09/04/2026

To all who have ever been here before, trust me, the tide will eventually turn for you. X

07/04/2026

Just love yourself enough......