the disappearing

A Poem by Ruby

“The Disappearing” is a reflective and emotional poem that explores the quiet, often unnoticed process of losing oneself.

I used to know the shape of me�"
The lines, the edges, the in-between.
The thoughts that bloomed without a fight,
The dreams that kept me up at night.

I wore my name like second skin,
It felt like home, like something in.
But now I say it out of breath,
And wonder what it even meant.

There wasn’t one sharp breaking point,
No single crack, no shattered joint�"
Just little slips, like drifting sand,
Parts of me that left my hands.

It starts in silence, quiet ways:
A word unsaid, a skipped-out day.
A mirror passed without a glance.
A favorite song you no longer dance.

The things you loved�"you let them go.
Convince yourself they’re “childish” now.
You fold yourself into a mold,
To fit the space, to not be bold.

You nod, you smile, you dim your light,
You trade your truth for less-than-right.
You learn to shrink, to play it small,
To keep the peace, to risk the fall.

And when they ask, “How have you been?”
You offer up a practiced grin.
“I’m fine,” you say, “Just tired, that’s all.”
But deep inside, you feel the crawl�"

Of someone whispering in your bones:
“This isn't us. This isn’t home.”
But the voice is faint, and fading too,
Buried beneath what isn’t you.

You try to trace the path back home,
To who you were when you were known�"
Before the masks, before the roles,
Before the world misplaced your soul.

But memory is a fragile thread,
And hope’s a ghost that lives half-dead.
You wonder if she’s gone for good�"
The girl you were, who understood.

Still, in the quiet, something stirs.
A flicker not quite lost in words.
A line of verse, a breath, a start�"
The aching pulse of stubborn heart.

And maybe that is how it goes�"
You don’t come back all at once.
You gather pieces as you grow,
Like broken stars becoming suns.

You speak, unsure if it sounds right,
But it’s your voice. You let it rise.
You write a line, you sing off-key,
You wear your name like poetry.

So yes, you’re lost. You’ve drifted far.
But you’re not gone. You are the spark.
And though it hurts, and though it’s slow�"
You’re still here.
You’re still worth the road.