R.H. Sin continues to hold a special place on my bookshelf, and honestly, this book is exactly why. His poetry always seems to find a way to cut into whatever emotional space I’m holding at the moment, even if it’s not one I’m consciously aware of. I could be having a perfectly fine day, feeling grounded and content, but opening one of his books guarantees that I’m about to spiral into reflection—sometimes sadness, sometimes clarity, but always something. That’s the power of his work. It’s not just about heartbreak or survival; it’s about the quiet ways we sabotage ourselves by staying in places we’ve outgrown.
This Day is Dark hits on one of those deeply uncomfortable truths: the way we stay in relationships not because they’re good for us, but because we’re still clinging to the idea of what the other person could be. It’s a book about recognizing the cost of staying for potential rather than reality, and about finally choosing yourself. R.H. Sin doesn’t sugarcoat it. He’s blunt, repetitive at times, but in the way a friend repeats advice when you’re too stubborn to listen the first time. These poems aren’t here to make you feel better—they’re here to remind you what you’ve already known deep down.
One of the things I really appreciate about this collection is how it explores the moments we often downplay. Not the grand betrayals, but the accumulation of small cruelties: the one compliment used to cover a hundred harsh words, the excuses we make for partners who have long stopped seeing us clearly. Sin reminds the reader that those tiny fractures add up until something essential inside us breaks. And when it does, we can either keep trying to glue it back together for someone else’s comfort, or we can finally start the hard work of healing for ourselves.
Not every poem here is a standout, but that’s to be expected with collections like this. The strength isn’t necessarily in individual lines, but in how the book as a whole builds a conversation with the reader about endurance, exhaustion, and eventually—release. I found myself flagging more pages than I expected, especially in the latter half where the poems seemed to sharpen their focus on reclaiming your peace, even if it means letting someone go.
What I loved most is that despite the darkness (and it’s right there in the title), this didn’t leave me feeling heavy. If anything, it offered validation. Sometimes it’s enough to have someone put your unspoken feelings into words, to hold a mirror up and say, “See? You’re not crazy for feeling this way.” That’s what this collection did for me.
R.H. Sin continues to write poetry that lives in the margins—the spaces where people don’t always look but where so much of our hurt and healing reside. His honesty, his refusal to shy away from pain, is what keeps me coming back to his books. This wasn’t his strongest collection overall, but it was exactly the one I needed at this moment.
Favorite Takeaway:
There is strength in recognizing when love has become more about endurance than joy, and healing often begins in the moment you finally say: “No more.”
Final Thought:
If you’ve ever been in a relationship where you stayed too long, where you kept hoping things would return to how they used to be, this book will feel painfully familiar. But it won’t leave you hopeless. It reminds you that walking away is an act of self-respect, not defeat.