I read my poems and cry
i read my own poems
like they were written
by someone
who knows me
too well
and suddenly
i am not the writer
i am the girl
inside the lines
again
feeling everything
i tried
to release
i thought
writing them down
would set me free
but instead
they sit in front of me
like mirrors
and i cannot
look away
i think about
my mother reading them
how she will pause
between lines
how she might not recognize
the version of herself
i carry
and that thought
alone
breaks something in me
i think about
my father
how he will read quietly
the way he loves
how he will not say much
but feel everything
and i don’t know
if that comforts me
or hurts more
because my poems
do not just tell stories
they remember
they reopen
what i carefully
closed
they take my hand
and lead me back
to every moment
that made me
soft
and heavy
and honest
i wrote them
to survive
but now
i read them
and feel
everything
again
Copyright © Jo Unsaid | Year Posted 2026
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