image

Illustration by Yana Peeva

The Spaces Between Us

Three poems explore the fragility of love, identity, and loneliness, capturing the quiet pain of connection, inner conflict, and the haunting fear of being truly seen and understood.

Cold Silence
          They leave my hands a little cold


   like the monster that lives inside them
But I don’t shiver, or shake, or tremble
They call me names I’ve never heard before
and look at me with eyes, I never knew could grace mine
                                                        so I give it up for them

                                                        I give it all up for them
I let the monster take my hand
and let us dance on their living room floor
                                            but when the lights switch off

                                           and all we have is cold silence

                                                                              I whimper

                                                                    but only slightly

                                                                     and only in fear

                                                             that they’ll leave me
because my monster doesn’t know
                                                 what it's like to be touched

                                                       what it's like to be seen
but when they leave my hands a little cold
                                    I don’t shiver, or shake, or tremble

                                                             I give it up for them

                                                        I give it all up for them
Scarlet
It's been a while since I’ve seen my face
only ever distant eyes looking back at me
but I can't seem to look away
or wash away this stain
the stain on my forehead
that marks me
that scars me
that shames me
calling me names
causing me to stay silent
but how do I wash away
the only thing that feels like home
the only thing that feels real but maybe if I scrub
and scrub
and scrub
leaving my face red
at least I'll know why I burn
when i think of you
A broken home
You claim to hate where you are now
like you live alone in the home you call ours
but you buy candles for me to light
you put up shelves for all my books
and you paint the walls my favorite color
                                       you don’t complain or throw a fit

                                                  but I hear your sighs echo,

                                     from your empty side of the room

                                                               the side you chose

                               after you picked the best side for me
I give you space
you say you don’t need
but you don’t notice
when I can’t seem to string a sentence together
because I don’t know how to speak to you
You say you wish things were different
like the life we have was built on sand
but I call your name when I cry
and you hold my shoulders
when I need you
you don’t fuss and you don’t whine
but you built a home
we can only call mine
  • Micah is Deputy Features Editor. Email them at feedback@thegazelle.org*
gazelle logo