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Madilyn Alwardt Poem
What the Mirror Never Knew
The pain was never about attention.
It was about silence
that grew too loud
inside my head.
It was standing in a crowded room
and still feeling invisible.
It was carrying storms
in a body too tired
to keep pretending sunshine.
I wanted release,
not destruction.
I wanted the ache inside me
to have a shape,
a name,
something I could finally understand.
But pain has a way
of asking for more
while giving nothing back.
And the mirror never knew
how hard I fought
to survive myself
on the nights
nobody checked in.
Still, somewhere beneath the hurt,
there is a version of me
learning that healing
does not make me weak.
A version of me
slowly believing
I deserve gentleness too.
Copyright © madilyn alwardt | Year Posted 2026
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Madilyn Alwardt Poem
Sometimes it feels like no matter how hard I try, I’m just not enough — like I’m always falling short of who people need me to be. I see the disappointment in their eyes, hear it in their silence, and carry it like a weight that won’t let go. Being a letdown doesn’t come from not caring — it comes from caring too much and still watching everything crumble. I replay my mistakes over and over, wondering if I could’ve been better, if I could’ve fixed it, if I was ever really what they hoped for. And maybe the hardest part isn’t the failure itself — it’s knowing I might be the reason someone stopped believing.
Copyright © madilyn alwardt | Year Posted 2026
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Madilyn Alwardt Poem
Grief Is Quiet
Grief doesn’t scream like people think.
It’s quiet.
It sits in your room when the lights are off,
And whispers when no one else is talking.
It shows up in the middle of math class,
When you remember their laugh
Instead of the answer.
It sneaks into your throat
Right before you’re about to smile.
Sometimes it feels like carrying a backpack
Full of things no one else can see.
Heavy, but invisible.
You get used to the weight—
But you never forget it’s there.
People ask if you’re okay
And you say “I’m fine”
Because it’s easier
Than explaining the hole.
Grief doesn’t go away.
It just learns how to walk beside you
Without making so much noise.
Copyright © madilyn alwardt | Year Posted 2026
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Madilyn Alwardt Poem
“10 Things I Hate About You”
1. I hate that you made me feel seen in a way no one else ever had, like you memorized parts of me I didn’t even know were showing.
2. I hate that you learned my quiet, the pauses in my sentences, and filled them with understanding instead of questions.
3. I hate that you made ordinary moments feel important, like sitting next to you was enough to make the whole day softer.
4. I hate the way you became part of my routine, part of the things I didn’t realize I’d miss until they were gone.
5. I hate that you knew how to calm me down without trying, just by being there, just by existing beside me.
6. I hate that you made promises with your actions more than your words, and I believed every single one of them.
7. I hate that you left pieces of yourself in places I still visit, in songs, in jokes, in silence.
8. I hate that you taught my heart how to open and then left it remembering how.
9. I hate that no matter how much time passes, some part of me still cares in ways I wish it didn’t.
10. But most of all, I hate that I can’t truly hate you… not even when I try, not even a little, not even enough to make it easier.
Copyright © madilyn alwardt | Year Posted 2026
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Madilyn Alwardt Poem
It doesn’t happen loudly.
No thunder, no shattered glass—
just the quiet subtraction of you.
First, your edges soften.
You stop correcting them
when they get you wrong.
Then your voice lowers—
not silence yet,
just… less insistence on being heard.
You begin to edit yourself
mid-sentence, mid-thought, mid-feeling,
trimming away anything that might not fit
inside the space they’ve made for you.
Love, you say.
This is love.
But love should not feel
like translating your soul
into a language that has no word for you.
Days pass, then months—
you forget what you sounded like
before you became agreeable.
You forget what you wanted
before wanting became inconvenient.
Even your reflection hesitates now,
as if trying to recall your name.
And still, nothing looks broken.
No bruises, no smoke—
just a life tidied down to nothing.
That’s how it kills you.
Not with endings,
but with edits.
Not by taking your breath,
but by teaching you
not to need it so much.
Until one day,
there’s nothing left to erase—
and no one left
to notice.
Copyright © madilyn alwardt | Year Posted 2026
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Madilyn Alwardt Poem
I Forgive the Past Me
I forgive the girl
who stayed quiet
when she should’ve screamed.
The one who apologized
for taking up space,
for feeling too much,
for not being enough
for people who never planned to stay.
I forgive the nights
she cried herself empty
and still woke up pretending
she was fine.
I forgive the way
she held onto people
with shaking hands,
even after they gave her
every reason to let go.
I forgive her for believing
love had to hurt
to be real.
For every bad decision
made from loneliness.
For every tear hidden
behind fake smiles.
For every moment
she blamed herself
for things she never broke.
I forgive the anger.
The fear.
The sadness she carried
like it was stitched into her skin.
Because she was surviving
the only way she knew how.
And maybe she was messy.
Maybe she was broken open
more times than she deserved.
But she kept going.
Even when her heart was tired.
Even when nobody noticed.
So I forgive the past me.
Not because the pain
didn’t matter—
but because she does.
Copyright © madilyn alwardt | Year Posted 2026
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Madilyn Alwardt Poem
liar
after we ended
you said it gently —
like kindness could soften blame
it wasn’t working
we changed
it’s nobody’s fault
but somehow
the silence kept pointing at me
i replay every moment now
like evidence in a trial
my words too sharp
my fears too loud
my love too much
maybe i asked for reassurance
one too many times
maybe i held on
when you were already leaving
you said you tried
and i believed you
so i learned to nod
and carry the ending
like something i broke
i told everyone
it was my fault
because blaming myself
hurt less than admitting
you stopped loving me
but late at night
when honesty slips in
through cracks i can’t close
i wonder
if i’m the liar
for saying i ruined us
or if you were
for letting me believe
I did
Copyright © madilyn alwardt | Year Posted 2026
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Madilyn Alwardt Poem
The Quiet Edge
It isn’t loud like people think.
It’s quieter than that.
Quieter than a room after everyone leaves,
quieter than your phone when it stops lighting up.
It feels like being misplaced,
like you were meant for somewhere else
and accidentally ended up here.
You carry your name like it belongs to someone stronger.
You carry your smile like borrowed clothing.
Everything fits, technically,
but none of it feels like yours.
Time moves strangely.
Minutes stretch into something endless,
and hope becomes a word
you remember more than recognize.
Still, there is something fragile that remains—
not loud, not certain,
but present.
Like a thread you haven’t let go of.
Like a window you haven’t closed.
Like a small voice that doesn’t promise anything,
only whispers,
stay.
And sometimes,
that whisper
is enough to keep the light
from going out
Copyright © madilyn alwardt | Year Posted 2026
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Madilyn Alwardt Poem
Loved Me
You said you loved me
like it was simple —
like love wasn’t something
that rearranges a person
from the inside out.
You loved me
in soft moments,
in laughter that lasted too long,
in the way your eyes found mine
across crowded rooms.
But love shouldn’t live
only in memories.
Because somewhere between
I miss you
and silence,
I realized
you loved me
only when it was easy.
And I stayed,
holding onto past tense affection,
trying to warm myself
with words already gone cold.
You loved me —
once.
Maybe truly.
Maybe enough
for who you were then.
But I learned something after you:
Being loved
shouldn’t feel like something
I have to remember
instead of something
I still feel.
Copyright © madilyn alwardt | Year Posted 2026
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Madilyn Alwardt Poem
pressure
you said
i was too much
too many questions
too many feelings
too many where is this goings
you said i was pressuring you
like love was something
i kept forcing into your hands
so i apologized
for wanting clarity
for wanting effort
for wanting to know
i mattered
i made myself smaller
quieter
easier to keep
but no one talks about
the pressure you placed on me
the pressure to wait
without asking why
the pressure to understand
without being understood
the pressure to accept
half-love
and call it patience
you wanted freedom
without consequences
attention
without commitment
and somehow
my need to feel secure
became the problem
you said i pushed too hard
but you were the one
asking me to stay
while giving me reasons
to leave
and now i see it —
i wasn’t pressuring you
i was just tired
of being pressured
to pretend
almost was enough.
Copyright © madilyn alwardt | Year Posted 2026
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