Joshua Cintron poetry - Sayspire

The Weight of Living

One of those moments that makes you wonder who really has it harder, the vagabond or you?

A reminder you didn’t know you needed today that the person you’re waiting for is already here.

When you’ve already let go on the inside. You just haven’t left yet.

A quiet morning commute where the sun hits just right, and for a moment, everything feels like it’s going to be okay.

When you’re in a rough stretch and joy shows up anyway; unbidden, unearned, and exactly on time.

Sometimes all it takes is a glance upward. The city disappears, replaced by something much older and quieter.

Even the strongest bonds can dissolve quietly. Not with a fight, but with a slow fade neither person planned.

Time is both a measure and a mystery. This poem sits inside the kind of moment you wish you could hold still.

What would you say if you could write fear a letter, and finally stop letting it write your story instead?

We spend years thinking the walls are closing in, only to discover we could have walked out at any moment.