Five Poems by Haven Lamptey

 

Hollow Wells

 

I poured myself out,

filling cups

that never held

what I gave.

Until I became the well

drawn from

again and again,

each offering thinner

than the last.

Now there is nothing

left to take.

No water,

no echo of it

only the quiet

of something

once full,

and the slow

spreading

of desert

inside me. 

 

When Hope Visited Me

 

On the floor,

willing my tears not to fall.

My cheek on fire

with your palm print

still on it.

 

My mind a foggy haze,

curled up in a ball

in the dark.

Scared,

confused,

and trapped.

 

Yet hope whispered

even in the dark

it shone bright.

 

There was air in my

lungs, courage in my

soul,

and hope in my heart.

 

No matter how many

times you tried to steal it

a thief

my hope and joy

refused to be taken

by you.

 

 

Chaos

 

You’re all I’ve ever known

my comfort zone.

Strange,

how something that harms

can still feel like home.

To everyone else,

you are noise, disruption,

something to escape

but without you,

I don’t know where to place myself.

When the day stays quiet,

too still,

too soft

something in me tightens.

Panic arrives

where you should be.

I look for you

in the gaps

in the silence

that doesn’t sit right.

This isn’t normal,

I tell myself.

And yet,

neither are you.

Without you, chaos,

I wonder

would I finally become

like everyone else?

steady,

untroubled,

at ease in their own skin.

But that’s the part

I don’t trust.

Because peace

feels unfamiliar

to a heart

that learned to live

inside storms.

 

Bottled Up

Tears slip down

I try to catch them

before they’re seen.

my chest tightens,

pressure building

from somewhere

I can’t point to.

so I hold it in

because I’ve learned

how easily

feeling too much

becomes misunderstanding.

they say rejection

is protection

but it doesn’t feel like that.

it feels like something

closing.

every time I chose myself,

you returned

and I leaned in again,

picking at the little you gave,

mistaking it

for enough.

even now,

when I think I’m steady

something shifts.

and I realise

I’ve been holding

more than I should

all over again.

 

 

If My Thoughts Were A Room

 

The walls would be dark

not painted,

just emptied of light,

leaning inward

as if they’ve been doing this

for years.

There’s a window,

set too high

a thin strip of brightness

that never reaches

where I am.

A narrow bed in the corner,

hard enough

to remind me

with every turn

that rest

doesn’t belong here.

Nothing else.

No chair,

no table,

nowhere

to set anything down.

Only the echo

one thought

circling,

returning

before it ever leaves.

Haven Lamptey is a UK-based poet who writes about healing, identity, and the things people don’t always say out loud. Her work explores emotion, memory, and finding strength in quiet moments. recently published my collection Phoenix Rising: The Quiet Becoming of Me.