I haven't made, or posted, poetry in...many years. Since the days of my old FA account.

Woke up in the night after a painful dream of someone and crafted this out through tears. They're an artist so I would not dare voice their identity. They're known but I feel like they should be known more. I always have, still do. They don't see themselves good enough but I did. But even in my anger I wish they'd vanish. But anger is.. well, as one of my favorite writers put it:

"I sat with my anger long enough until she told me her real name was grief."
- C.S. Lewis

Consider this cathartic. Consider this my grief. I don't get peace from being ghosted when I offered my heart.
So I am owed at least this.
And I won't have people tell me anymore how to live, or grieve, my life. My empathy is broken when I get none back.

I only wish to dream without ache.