Sam Hendrian

At sunset on Sunset Boulevard
When West Hollywood was waking up
An aspiring actress of 25
Limped back to her studio apartment.

Didn’t know she was poor
‘Til she dropped her toothbrush on the ground
And cursed in fear
Of having to lose another two dollars.

Ten days into sobriety so far
Which would have been an accomplishment
If it hadn’t been January
The month of false resolutions.

Longed to be held
But not held accountable
Which limited her partners
To one-night knights.

A vibrator used to work wonders
Before her springtime imagination
Broke between May and December
Trying to shield a fading dream.

Now pleasure and sorrow were equals
Daily happy hour specials
That kept her alive
Yet unable to thrive.

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.

This poem appeared in What We Hold On To: Poems of Coping, Connection, and Carrying On — Winter 2026, published by The Chaos Section Poetry Project.  You can read the full collection or download a free PDF of the chapbook here.