There's You

You are not unlucky—
though nights grew long and skies turned murky,
though hands you trusted pulled away,
leaving your name in shades of gray,
though life pressed petals from your chest
and called the breaking “for the best.”

You are not unfortunate—
though love once left without a portrait,
though stones kept moving in your path
as if they knew your aftermath,
though winds rewrote your voice to small
and whispered you should learn to fall.

You are not doomed—
though memories bloomed
like ghosts that tug your trembling sleeve,
reminding you of why you grieve,
tying old stories to your shine,
teaching you hurt was by design.

But still—not ever—
for pain cannot unmake you; never.
Each time the world erased your name,
you rose from embers just the same—
whole in ways they never knew,
soft, but forged in brighter blue.

And if tonight your tears return,
let every drop become a lantern;
let sorrow glow and guide you through—
for every ache still points to you.
The truest part you can’t undo—
the heart they tried to break
but grew.

Written by Casey Huang
From the Still Poetry House archive