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Allison Gates Poem
Some mornings i wake up with the weight once again,
the whisper that says leave
It presses behind my ribs,
Soft as fog, heavy as oceans
A lovers smile breaks through the grey,
Gentle, unassuming,
A promise i didn't know i needed
I suppose i can stay a bit longer
Then i hear the children's laughter,
Contagious and wild and free,
Spinning through the house like music
I don't want to turn it off yet
I find myself leaning in and listening for another note
Another verse of small, living joy
The phone rings, friendship at the other end
It holds the chill at bay and offers me a light i can rest beneath
It doesn't ask me to rise,
Just to breathe, in and out,
Stay and bask in the warmth a little longer
So i do
And in these borrowed moments I find something like grace
Not the absence of my pain,
But the quiet decision to stay a bit longer
Copyright © Allison Gates | Year Posted 2025
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Allison Gates Poem
I love how even when you're gone all week, it never feels that long.
Even when I miss you, I don't have to miss you.
You're so intentional with the time we share.
I love how you kiss me like you're starving,
When no one is watching.
And when they are,
You kiss me like we're sharing a secret meant just for us.
With ever smile shared and words kept,
I'm learning to trust again,
To believe that gentle can stay,
That love can be quiet and soft and safe.
Copyright © Allison Gates | Year Posted 2025
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Allison Gates Poem
Here they come.
Hungry eyes like open mouths.
Lusting.
Taking. Taking. Taking.
Their hands never tremble with doubt,
only demand more of me.
I know my place, a vessel,
a thing to be filled and emptied,
again and again and again.
They reach for me like I owe them my breath,
and I give it,
I’ve forgotten what it feels like to keep something for myself.
Whenever they want.
There is no adoration here.
No questions asked.
I am pliant. I am present.
I am pliant. I am present.
They leave me hollow,
less careful each time they use me,
Like I’m already broken.
Am I already broken?
Stained with their sweat and seed,
I try to scrub the stench of them from my skin,
but it clings
a film of all the times I mistook greed for love.
I want to wake up,
but this isn’t a nightmare.
This is just the life I’ve lived.
And somewhere beneath my ruined temple,
a quiet voice still whispers
You were never meant to be consumed.
Copyright © Allison Gates | Year Posted 2025
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Allison Gates Poem
Hello, Its me again, calling once more
Good morning, love - a familiar line
Still bringing warmth, never losing its light
We talk of work and friends,
Schedules and Kids,
My love for Twilight and how much it annoys you
Static and comfort share the line
our breathing, my quiet smile
I pause too long before goodbye.
I love you. Enjoy your day.
We are a loop of soft beginnings, never tiring
Thinking of you until tomorrow
When Hello, Its me again comes
Copyright © Allison Gates | Year Posted 2025
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Allison Gates Poem
Five AM, the world is still asleep
Not us
Your arm finds me in the dark and i melt into the warmth of it
Wrapping myself in the hush of Sunday mornings
Outside the sky brightens
But here, time doesn't move
There's only the quiet, the sounds of us
Soft laughter and small kisses that feel like sunrise
You whisper something silly
And I laugh half asleep
Even the quiet can't keep you from making me smile
For a moment,
I forget the week ahead
There's just you and the stillness
And the way Sunday mornings feel like home
Copyright © Allison Gates | Year Posted 2025
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Allison Gates Poem
I don't know how to be enough for you
Or maybe its that i already am,
Maybe I'm more than enough.
Some would say too much, actually.
I try to share myself, share things
But they always land wrong,
Is it the way that I choose to grieve?
The way I adore you too loudly?
The way I flirt with death,
As if its an old friend who understands?
I don't do things like you.
Is that what it means to love,
To be like you?
I don't want you to hide your feelings,
So you build them into sermons.
Every word, a rule I didn't know I was breaking.
You speak in certainty,
While i answer in tremors.
You call it wrong,
But its just how i survive the noise inside me.
So maybe that makes me not enough,
or too much,
or just enough to keep myself alive.
Copyright © Allison Gates | Year Posted 2025
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