posted a poem at 2am and deleted it by breakfast. not because it was bad. because it was too true and three people i know in real life had already seen it. vulnerability has an audience problem. i keep the good ones in my notes app like contraband.
The Poem I Deleted From Instagram
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The Poem I Deleted From Instagram
I posted a poem at 2 a.m. and deleted it by breakfast. Not because it was bad. Because it was too true, and three people I know in real life had already seen it.
Vulnerability has an audience problem. Social platforms promise connection but punish specificity. The moment a line is too honest for your aunt to read, the poem becomes a liability.
I keep the good ones in my notes app like contraband. Maybe that is cowardice. Maybe it is craft. Maybe it is the only way to write when you are twenty-four and the world is on fire and you still want a job interview on Monday.
The deleted poem was about steam on the ceiling. I remember the line. That is enough for now.
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