Selected Poetry by Sam Hendrian

Photo Source: Unsplash

“Cracked”

I can’t really love a person

‘Til they’ve started to crack

And let loose their insecurities

One stuttered word at a time.

Usually takes a year

Sometimes more, sometimes less

Sometimes instantly

If they pride themself on being a mess.

It remains unannounced,

A secret unveiling of secrets

Disguised as common knowledge

They merely forgot to mention.

Our hugs get a little longer

And have a conversation all on their own

Squeezing away the coldness

That stays their default setting.

Of course, once they realize what’s happened

They often run away

But that’s okay,

I’ll keep loving them anyway.

“Farewell, Solo”

Woke up afraid

As I often do

Even if my stubbornness

Insists otherwise.

Couldn’t remember

How I’d gotten into bed

Or why my clothes

Were scattered on the kitchen floor.

Hadn’t hurt anyone

Except myself

Which never seemed to count

Like cracking a cheap mirror.

But still the thrill of killing my health

Had suddenly worn off,

Replaced by a nostalgic urge

To smile without artificial assistance.

I grabbed the blanket gifted me

By the person whose presence I crave most

Then felt her feet beside me

Insisting I don’t have to walk alone.

Sam Hendrian is a Los Angeles-based filmmaker, poet, and playwright striving to foster empathy through art. From writing personalized poems for passersby outside of LA's oldest independent bookstore every Sunday, to making Chaplin-esque silent films about loneliness and human connection once a month, Sam lives to make other people feel seen and validated. More poems and films can be found on Instagram at @samhendrian143.