i used to hold on to you
like you were my life raft,
like you were the only thing
keeping me afloat when all
i wanted was to sink
but i couldn’t count on you being there
when things got rough,
i couldn’t trust that in you, i’d find safety
because i never felt safe with you
i thought it was sand that
slipped through the hourglass
but now i feel it’s more like water,
cold and powerful and sacred
until the moment
it pours from your hands
© Copyright 2026 Cheney Meaghan Giordano
a poem on Substack
Sometimes we begin things that we don’t know we’ll finish. We’ll start a novel on a Wednesday and by Friday we’ll have thrown it out and started playing violin. We’ll put spoonfuls of sugar in our coffee every morning until the scale tips too far and then we switch to tea with lemon, and hate it. But we just have one life, just this one, so if we want to we should write poems and learn to read music. We should have the good coffee and take a long walk. We should lay down and look at the sky and … Read the rest
Sometimes I think
of how you would have been
had I been someone else.
We would have been friends,
just friends, surely, but
we’d connect on a level higher
than with anyone else in our lives.
We’d go from anonymous to
monogamous, eventually, and
we took an awful lot with us
when we went, but it’s okay.
I’m safe. I’m done with my
days of leather and lace.
I’ll be anything you want
me to be, if you just keep me.
Today’s poetry prompt words were: sometimes, anonymous, and leather.
