Samuel Decker Thompson
@adudewritingpoetry.bsky.social
As of Thanksgiving night it's now been a year, the toughest year of my life.
I've tried to do everything right, to be there for my kids everyday, to better myself, to let my actions speak louder than the lies, and to accept that it was never real, that her love was a mirage, and it's time to move on
I've tried to do everything right, to be there for my kids everyday, to better myself, to let my actions speak louder than the lies, and to accept that it was never real, that her love was a mirage, and it's time to move on
November 29, 2025 at 3:06 PM
As of Thanksgiving night it's now been a year, the toughest year of my life.
I've tried to do everything right, to be there for my kids everyday, to better myself, to let my actions speak louder than the lies, and to accept that it was never real, that her love was a mirage, and it's time to move on
I've tried to do everything right, to be there for my kids everyday, to better myself, to let my actions speak louder than the lies, and to accept that it was never real, that her love was a mirage, and it's time to move on
Someone I loved once handed me something I couldn’t name, a weight I carried around like it knew me better than I knew myself.
I turned it over in my hands for years, trying to understand why it stayed cold no matter how warm my life became.
There were nights when I thought it ...
I turned it over in my hands for years, trying to understand why it stayed cold no matter how warm my life became.
There were nights when I thought it ...
November 19, 2025 at 8:33 PM
Someone I loved once handed me something I couldn’t name, a weight I carried around like it knew me better than I knew myself.
I turned it over in my hands for years, trying to understand why it stayed cold no matter how warm my life became.
There were nights when I thought it ...
I turned it over in my hands for years, trying to understand why it stayed cold no matter how warm my life became.
There were nights when I thought it ...
Full poem here;
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November 18, 2025 at 2:46 PM
Full poem here;
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She winces sometimes when the world moves too fast,
so I learn to slow down for her,
to listen to the rhythm of her breath instead of the clock.
Some nights she hurts,
and I just sit there,
no fixing, no saving,
just two people learning that love can be quiet.
She laughs less on those days,
but...
so I learn to slow down for her,
to listen to the rhythm of her breath instead of the clock.
Some nights she hurts,
and I just sit there,
no fixing, no saving,
just two people learning that love can be quiet.
She laughs less on those days,
but...
November 14, 2025 at 9:59 AM
She winces sometimes when the world moves too fast,
so I learn to slow down for her,
to listen to the rhythm of her breath instead of the clock.
Some nights she hurts,
and I just sit there,
no fixing, no saving,
just two people learning that love can be quiet.
She laughs less on those days,
but...
so I learn to slow down for her,
to listen to the rhythm of her breath instead of the clock.
Some nights she hurts,
and I just sit there,
no fixing, no saving,
just two people learning that love can be quiet.
She laughs less on those days,
but...
Once I tell someone I love them, it sticks,
like a scar under the skin,
quiet, permanent,
whether they stay,
whether they hurt me,
whether they even remember who I am.
like a scar under the skin,
quiet, permanent,
whether they stay,
whether they hurt me,
whether they even remember who I am.
November 6, 2025 at 8:44 PM
Once I tell someone I love them, it sticks,
like a scar under the skin,
quiet, permanent,
whether they stay,
whether they hurt me,
whether they even remember who I am.
like a scar under the skin,
quiet, permanent,
whether they stay,
whether they hurt me,
whether they even remember who I am.
On cloudy days I long for a sun-kissed beach,
on days full of brightly lit bliss,
I long for the bitter-patter of Tucson monsoons
testing the roof above my bedroom,
but during time spent with you
I can't imagine that I could ever find a better view.
-Samuel Decker Thompson
on days full of brightly lit bliss,
I long for the bitter-patter of Tucson monsoons
testing the roof above my bedroom,
but during time spent with you
I can't imagine that I could ever find a better view.
-Samuel Decker Thompson
November 5, 2025 at 6:06 PM
On cloudy days I long for a sun-kissed beach,
on days full of brightly lit bliss,
I long for the bitter-patter of Tucson monsoons
testing the roof above my bedroom,
but during time spent with you
I can't imagine that I could ever find a better view.
-Samuel Decker Thompson
on days full of brightly lit bliss,
I long for the bitter-patter of Tucson monsoons
testing the roof above my bedroom,
but during time spent with you
I can't imagine that I could ever find a better view.
-Samuel Decker Thompson
You can’t pull the wings free before they’re strong enough,
you’ll ruin the thing you wanted to see fly.
You can’t dig your fingers into the dirt
and drag a sprout into daylight before it’s ready, it will only whither and die.
You can’t force the mind open like a jammed door,
it needs ...
you’ll ruin the thing you wanted to see fly.
You can’t dig your fingers into the dirt
and drag a sprout into daylight before it’s ready, it will only whither and die.
You can’t force the mind open like a jammed door,
it needs ...
November 3, 2025 at 5:59 PM
You can’t pull the wings free before they’re strong enough,
you’ll ruin the thing you wanted to see fly.
You can’t dig your fingers into the dirt
and drag a sprout into daylight before it’s ready, it will only whither and die.
You can’t force the mind open like a jammed door,
it needs ...
you’ll ruin the thing you wanted to see fly.
You can’t dig your fingers into the dirt
and drag a sprout into daylight before it’s ready, it will only whither and die.
You can’t force the mind open like a jammed door,
it needs ...
Some people believe the universe has their name written on every good thing,
as if fate keeps a ledger,
as if effort is optional,
but the truth comes slower,
like a bruise forming under the skin,
you either reach for it or you don’t, and most of the time,
it doesn’t reach back.
Sometimes you ...
as if fate keeps a ledger,
as if effort is optional,
but the truth comes slower,
like a bruise forming under the skin,
you either reach for it or you don’t, and most of the time,
it doesn’t reach back.
Sometimes you ...
October 28, 2025 at 3:14 PM
Some people believe the universe has their name written on every good thing,
as if fate keeps a ledger,
as if effort is optional,
but the truth comes slower,
like a bruise forming under the skin,
you either reach for it or you don’t, and most of the time,
it doesn’t reach back.
Sometimes you ...
as if fate keeps a ledger,
as if effort is optional,
but the truth comes slower,
like a bruise forming under the skin,
you either reach for it or you don’t, and most of the time,
it doesn’t reach back.
Sometimes you ...
The most beautiful thing,
I think,
isn’t the shine of people pretending to be whole,
but the quiet way someone stays
even when you’re spilling out of yourself.
When they touch the parts you hide
without trying to fix them,
and say, this too is you,
as if it’s something worth keeping.
They don’t ...
I think,
isn’t the shine of people pretending to be whole,
but the quiet way someone stays
even when you’re spilling out of yourself.
When they touch the parts you hide
without trying to fix them,
and say, this too is you,
as if it’s something worth keeping.
They don’t ...
October 24, 2025 at 4:49 PM
The most beautiful thing,
I think,
isn’t the shine of people pretending to be whole,
but the quiet way someone stays
even when you’re spilling out of yourself.
When they touch the parts you hide
without trying to fix them,
and say, this too is you,
as if it’s something worth keeping.
They don’t ...
I think,
isn’t the shine of people pretending to be whole,
but the quiet way someone stays
even when you’re spilling out of yourself.
When they touch the parts you hide
without trying to fix them,
and say, this too is you,
as if it’s something worth keeping.
They don’t ...
You try to love them softly,
the way morning light loves the curtain,
but they shut it anyway,
saying it’s too bright,
saying they’re too tired ...
and maybe they are.
tired of needing, tired of trying,
tired of losing what they never understood.
Still, part of you hopes
that one day they’ll see...
the way morning light loves the curtain,
but they shut it anyway,
saying it’s too bright,
saying they’re too tired ...
and maybe they are.
tired of needing, tired of trying,
tired of losing what they never understood.
Still, part of you hopes
that one day they’ll see...
October 22, 2025 at 12:09 PM
You try to love them softly,
the way morning light loves the curtain,
but they shut it anyway,
saying it’s too bright,
saying they’re too tired ...
and maybe they are.
tired of needing, tired of trying,
tired of losing what they never understood.
Still, part of you hopes
that one day they’ll see...
the way morning light loves the curtain,
but they shut it anyway,
saying it’s too bright,
saying they’re too tired ...
and maybe they are.
tired of needing, tired of trying,
tired of losing what they never understood.
Still, part of you hopes
that one day they’ll see...
Emotional safety changes the landscape of love, It isn’t love that saves you; it’s safety.
It’s knowing anger won’t turn into cruelty, It’s hearing their words and believing them, because they match what they do. When they're steady… not perfect… but real.
You start to breathe again. Your ...
It’s knowing anger won’t turn into cruelty, It’s hearing their words and believing them, because they match what they do. When they're steady… not perfect… but real.
You start to breathe again. Your ...
October 15, 2025 at 1:58 AM
Emotional safety changes the landscape of love, It isn’t love that saves you; it’s safety.
It’s knowing anger won’t turn into cruelty, It’s hearing their words and believing them, because they match what they do. When they're steady… not perfect… but real.
You start to breathe again. Your ...
It’s knowing anger won’t turn into cruelty, It’s hearing their words and believing them, because they match what they do. When they're steady… not perfect… but real.
You start to breathe again. Your ...
Reposted by Samuel Decker Thompson
My address is not lost by touching you again
My heart is not lost by loving you again
My body is not lost by becoming passionate about you again
My being is not lost by going for yours
and being a mutual priority
Nothing is lost because we were food
when pleasure came to meet us...
My heart is not lost by loving you again
My body is not lost by becoming passionate about you again
My being is not lost by going for yours
and being a mutual priority
Nothing is lost because we were food
when pleasure came to meet us...
October 13, 2025 at 1:58 AM
My address is not lost by touching you again
My heart is not lost by loving you again
My body is not lost by becoming passionate about you again
My being is not lost by going for yours
and being a mutual priority
Nothing is lost because we were food
when pleasure came to meet us...
My heart is not lost by loving you again
My body is not lost by becoming passionate about you again
My being is not lost by going for yours
and being a mutual priority
Nothing is lost because we were food
when pleasure came to meet us...
I saw you, the full picture,
the charm, the damage, the chaos that lived beneath your calm, the generous caring facade that hid your emotional vacancy.
You were no saint,
but I stayed anyway,
like I owed something to the wreckage, like I could save you,
like a fool who mistakes endurance for love...
the charm, the damage, the chaos that lived beneath your calm, the generous caring facade that hid your emotional vacancy.
You were no saint,
but I stayed anyway,
like I owed something to the wreckage, like I could save you,
like a fool who mistakes endurance for love...
October 13, 2025 at 5:31 PM
I saw you, the full picture,
the charm, the damage, the chaos that lived beneath your calm, the generous caring facade that hid your emotional vacancy.
You were no saint,
but I stayed anyway,
like I owed something to the wreckage, like I could save you,
like a fool who mistakes endurance for love...
the charm, the damage, the chaos that lived beneath your calm, the generous caring facade that hid your emotional vacancy.
You were no saint,
but I stayed anyway,
like I owed something to the wreckage, like I could save you,
like a fool who mistakes endurance for love...
... and the worst part is,
if we are ever going to find someone worthwhile,
we have to keep allowing ourselves to be vulnerable time and time again,
because that's the only way to really connect with someone,
that's the only way love can finally win.
-Samuel Decker Thompson
if we are ever going to find someone worthwhile,
we have to keep allowing ourselves to be vulnerable time and time again,
because that's the only way to really connect with someone,
that's the only way love can finally win.
-Samuel Decker Thompson
October 13, 2025 at 12:39 AM
... and the worst part is,
if we are ever going to find someone worthwhile,
we have to keep allowing ourselves to be vulnerable time and time again,
because that's the only way to really connect with someone,
that's the only way love can finally win.
-Samuel Decker Thompson
if we are ever going to find someone worthwhile,
we have to keep allowing ourselves to be vulnerable time and time again,
because that's the only way to really connect with someone,
that's the only way love can finally win.
-Samuel Decker Thompson
One thing you need to learn is that there’s people in this world who just can’t love.
They crave for it,
they obsess over finding it,
they lust after that initial spark,
but then, when it's within their grasp,
they don’t know what to do with it, they don't know how to nourish it, how to ...
They crave for it,
they obsess over finding it,
they lust after that initial spark,
but then, when it's within their grasp,
they don’t know what to do with it, they don't know how to nourish it, how to ...
October 12, 2025 at 5:05 PM
One thing you need to learn is that there’s people in this world who just can’t love.
They crave for it,
they obsess over finding it,
they lust after that initial spark,
but then, when it's within their grasp,
they don’t know what to do with it, they don't know how to nourish it, how to ...
They crave for it,
they obsess over finding it,
they lust after that initial spark,
but then, when it's within their grasp,
they don’t know what to do with it, they don't know how to nourish it, how to ...