Nancy Ann Creed

Unveiling Secrets: A Journey of Heartbreak I once thought I was your confidante, That you told me everything, But now I see that I was wrong, That I was just another fool. You tell others things you’ve never told me, Secrets that you keep close, And I am left in the dark, To wonder what I did wrong. Am I not important to you? Am I not worthy of your trust? Or is there someone else you’ve chosen, To take my place in your heart? I don’t know the answers to these questions, But I do know that I’m hurt, And that I’m no longer sure, If I want to be a part of your life. The silence between us grows louder each day, A wall built of secrets and whispers untold, I watch from the sidelines as you drift away, Leaving memories turning fragile and cold. So I will step back from the shadows you cast, And guard the small pieces of heart that remain, No longer a prisoner to what's in the past, Learning to walk through the quiet and pain. More Works by Nancy Ann Creed Ebooks http://payhip.com/Nanc...

  The Shadow in the Room My words mean nothing, they drift like falling leaves, Unheard and unvalued, while my spirit grieves,  speak into the vacuum of your cold indifference, Finding no echo, no bridge, no deliverance. My heart means nothing, it's a pulse, a quiet plea, For a glimmer of worth that you refuse to see, Beating against the cage of your neglectful gaze, Lost in the fog of these hollow, endless days. You do what you want, in your self-centered tide, With little care for me, or the pain I must hide, Sweeping through the hours with a callous disregard, While I am left to mend what you have torn and scarred. Significance fades, I am sealed by fate, An afterthought wrapped in isolation's state, Waiting on the periphery of your vibrant world, Like a banner forgotten, forever left unfurled. Until you need something, a favor to lend, Then I am important, a convenient friend, Suddenly the shadow gains a sudden, sharp light, And I am summoned briefly from t...

    Photo by Alexander Zvir on Pexels.com The Unbreakable Bonds of Family: A Poetic Reflection The heart's vast, inexplicable room Knows no boundary, feels no gloom, Refuses to tally "by blood" or not, Or ledger a love that can't be bought. It scorns the line, the legal draw, In the deep, emotional valley of awe. For a lifetime, this house was the core, The table as full as the love I bore. I was the anchor in a whirlwind wide, A universe where eleven reside. From my body sprang three, a simple truth, But all eleven are mine, from age to youth. Yet a cruel, invisible wall now starts to rise, Built of "stay away," and "move on" lies. A denial of all I’ve fiercely done, As if this life-love could be undone, Commanded to vanish like dust on the wind, A heart-breaking suggestion, absurdly pinned. They demand a silence, my place declared gone, Insist my role is over, my duty withdrawn. But the only sound now in the empty space, Wher...

  Photo by Jeswin Thomas on Pexels.com The Quiet Outside The empty space of connection, the gathering, Pulses with a vibrant energy I only observe. It hums with plans already made, A detailed itinerary, a map of places where I do not go. My position is fixed: outside. I don't move; I only watch the colors of the evening fade From my window, a slow drain of warmth and light. My world is contained, defined by sitting in the light of what I know. The knowledge I possess is isolating, sharp: That laughter sounds much louder through a wall— Magnified by the barrier that separates their joy, A painful noise. And conversely, Silence is a heavy thing to wear, A cloak woven from unsaid words. It presses down, making breathing difficult. So, I maintain a silent vigil. I wait for pings, for any word at all, A simple notification, an anchor thrown, To prove that, in their minds, I’m standing there. The name of "friend," I embraced fully; We call them friends; I gave the...

  Photo by cottonbro studio on Pexels.com The Unspoken Question of Worth Am I a difficult person to be friends with? The question echoes in the lonely silence, A heavy query, weighted by repeated pain. I dissect each word, each passing glance, Seeking the flaw so visible to others' eyes, Yet stubbornly opaque, a shadow on my own stain. Am I too awkward, my presence a strain? Does nervousness stilt the practiced conversation? I rehearse the words, the balance I must find, To hold the moment, a calculated equation. But the words tumble out, a chaotic, hurried rush, Leaving the perfect moment behind. Am I too anxious, a constant, worrying hum? A fear of saying too much, of taking up space, Of simply being a burden, too large, too loud. This anxiety, palpable, a barrier I can't erase, A repellent field that pushes people away, Before a true connection is allowed. Do I forget to hold my tongue's sharp edge? I value honesty, perhaps too stark and free. I spea...