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Archive Warning:
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Language:
English
Stats:
Published:
2026-06-22
Words:
399
Chapters:
1/1
Kudos:
1
Hits:
4

standoff (alternate)

Summary:

to a friend, a poem archived online

happy birthday!

don't you hate it when you wake up in the middle of the night and decide wander aimlessly until you find your sense of self but it's not you? but it is you? what an inconvenience right?

Notes:

don't think too much about this it's cringe

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

the rain has slowed to a trickle, yet it still persists

dripping down the leaves and eaves.

the floor is wet and cold, just like my clothes

that stick to me like memories i can't let go.

i shiver and shake with each intake of breath

but i cannot sleep, no i cannot rest.

i stare at the inky black sky-

there are stars this time, three to be exact,

unblinking eyes judging me.

planes fly ever so often over us,

their engines interrupting my fitful sleep

the emergency blanket is jarringly loud in my ears,

aluminium foil scraping across my skin,

keeping me warm until it gets snatched away.

my company is mostly asleep,

distant movement and chatter i don't bother to process.

songs i remember the tune of, not the lyrics.

but i know - somewhere in the distance

sits a stranger, sleeping yet awake,

just begging to be answered by someone,

anyone

even me?

 

i close my eyes.

 


 

a road leading to nowhere, leading to home,

trees hunched over, leaning towards the pebbles.

the sickly smell of rot and decay fills my nose,

fog blocking my view, shielding me from what i want to find.

the humid air clings to me like a wet, soppy blanket,

dragging against the cobbles.

farther ahead, past all i will ever know,

pushing through the hazy memories

i trudge onward, until-

 

there! right there!

a pool, or pond, or whatever one would call a body of water,

awaits me. it is shallow, just like my emotions,

and it holds the moonlight gently in its hands. 

the night sky above scatters around its reflecting, shimmery surface

the shrubbery tries and fails to hide what i want to see, my ɹǝɟlǝɔʇᴉou

 

i walk towards it. 

there is nothing remarkable nor spectacular about the pond. merely

water, and squelchy mud, and i lean over to see my face.

and all i see is

all i

all i see-

 

i cannot see anything.

i cannot see myself. 

i cannot see, i refuse to see-

i refuse to see myself.

i refuse to see that haggard, sunken face

and believe it is me.

i refuse to believe

and when i refuse to believe, when i neglect to see

all that greets me will be a stranger 

all that the glassy water allows me to see is a stranger.

 

i cannot see anything

i won't see anything

 

Notes:

something left them that night