Orbit Without Witness
I don’t understand it—
how we began as something ancient and soft,
children born into the same chaos,
mud on our shoes, curses in our blood,
swearing we would be the ones to break it.
I came back home and you opened the door like sunlight.
Like nothing could ever come between us.
Then I lost something I never got to hold
and you were still there—
technically near,
emotionally elsewhere,
like a moon refusing its own gravity.
You got married in silence,
as if joy could be tucked away
without echoing through the people who loved you first.
Wasn’t that a crack in the story you didn’t question?
Then I almost left my body entirely
and you did not hold the line.
You stepped back while I was still bleeding time.
I asked for something small.
A lunch. A moment. Proof of presence.
You answered in distance,
in delays,
in the slow erosion of replies
that taught me how absence can be polite.
Until I finally named it:
it feels like you don’t want me in your story.
And you did not disagree.
That silence—
that was the ending I didn’t get to choose.
I didn’t sever us.
I only stopped reaching for someone
who had already let go.
And still it lingers in me like a spell that misfired—
because I do not understand
how someone can orbit you for a lifetime
and still forget you exist
when you are burning.
#feminineenergy
#divinefeminine
#healingjourney
#selfgrowth
#emotionaltruth
#aestheticwriting
#spiritualawakening
Reading this poem truly resonates with anyone who has experienced the silent erosion of a once-cherished connection. It highlights the complex emotions involved in navigating grief and betrayal, especially when the other person seems emotionally distant despite physical proximity. In my own experience, I found that acknowledging these feelings without expectation was the first step toward healing. The poem’s imagery of orbiting someone who forgets you exist powerfully encapsulates the loneliness that comes from being emotionally unseen. When dealing with such situations, small acts like asking for a moment or proof of presence can feel monumental—and the lack of those can deepen the pain. I've learned that setting boundaries and accepting when someone has emotionally checked out, even without formal closure, is essential for self-growth. It’s difficult, especially when the bond began in shared chaos and history. The poem also touches on the subtle ways absence can be polite but still devastating. This gentle withdrawal often conceals profound betrayal, complicating the grief journey. Finding supportive communities or sharing experiences through healing journeys and trauma healing hashtags helps. Connecting with others facing similar emotional truths reassures you that your feelings are valid. Overall, this poignant writing emphasizes that healing isn’t about severing connections aggressively but recognizing when to stop reaching for those who have already let go. It invites reflection on feminine energy, divine feminine strength, and spiritual awakening, encouraging a compassionate yet firm approach to emotional truth and personal growth.
