you know what bothers me the most? it’s never how much someone pulls away, or how they read your scars with self-diagnosis, how they judge your responses.
it’s the lies. the lie of their care. the lie of their fear. the lie of their contempt.
am I so gullible to think that still, through the lies, I can love you? I must be so crazy to see your pity as high regard. I had forgotten that silence perceived feels anxious but understood can be weaponized.
I must be a fool to answer the questions I know I can’t even answer to myself. you make me brave the same way you make me weak, with a curiosity to feel the ether of my beginnings yet inspect the scars near the ends.
It must be some gift to make the storyline so real, so raw, to watch the different paths dissipate with a tap.
Distance has never seen me grow, it has always seen me drown.
I’d forgotten that the only ear that hears me scream at night is mine, the one that wakes up in tears, remorse, fear.
yet here I am, wondering who will get to hold your hand at night when you can’t sleep, dry your tears when you can’t beat em, and dream to live with you.