Isn't it funny? [inhale] that the place I now love the most… I never brought you to? [inhale] [in one breath] There’s no you on the seat, no smile across the bar– No tapping. No trace. [inhale] ...No essence of you. The lights hum low, as the saxophone sighs- [wistful] and for the first time in months. [inhale] I don’t feel watched by a memory. [exhale] It's just strangers– red wine and me Listening to the sound of someone else’s heartbreak. I wrote it a while ago, but made a few twecks

What’s one thing you’ve been wanting to write about—but keep putting off? No pressure to be poetic. Just answer honestly.

Let’s build a poem together—one line at a time. Rules: • I’ll start with the first line. • Each person adds one new line only. • Don’t explain it. • Don’t fix what came before. • Let it drift wherever it wants to go. Mood? Mystery. Memory. Love. Loss. Wonder. Surprise me. Here’s the opening line: “The night left something on my doorstep, and I haven’t touched it yet.” 👇 Your turn—add the next line.

I walk alone where shadows lean, Where yesterday still stains the street, With every footstep tapping time Against the hollow in my chest. The moon hangs low like a witness, Silent, silver, stripped of blame, It watches me pass broken windows That still remember my name. The wind keeps asking where you went It threads your absence through my coat, Each empty sleeve, each breath I take, Is proof of how much I still hold. I pass the places we once stood, Where laughter lived in open doors, Now even echoes limp away, Too tired to pretend they’re yours. Streetlights flicker like old prayers, Half believed and softly said, I mouth them anyway, hoping Something warm might raise its head. My pockets carry fragments still A sentence, song, the curve of home, Things too heavy for goodbye Yet light enough to walk alone. Grief walks beside me like a twin, Matching stride, refusing speech, It doesn’t grab me by the throat It simply stays within my reach. But listen close beneath my boots, Past cracked cement and midnight’s tone There’s something stubborn in my pulse That says this road is still my own. Because even in the loneliest dark, With nothing left to guide me through, I keep moving scarred, upright Dragging dawn behind my shoes. So yes, tonight I walk alone, With ghosts and hope in equal weight, But every mile I manage still Is proof I’m more than what I’ve lost to fate. I walk alone but not in vain The morning waits. I’m on my way. Jason Strickland

Sorry everyone for my absence lately on top of a broken arm cut in my eye, thanks to the hospital I got the flu so I have been really sick. I feel like I'm on the mend now. Thank you for everyone for understanding Jason