Are you where you're meant to be?
Every choice you've made has built you.
Did the wrong turns pull you from the life that was meant to be yours?

I have wronged — and so have you.
We’ve strayed so far,
we’ve forgotten the path altogether.

And yet —
I’m so glad to be lost in this world
if I’m lost with you.

We sit in meadows that rise above our knees,
and you laugh at me
for tucking my trousers into my socks.
“I’m scared of ticks,” I remind you.
You roll your eyes —
but your smile is the softest thing I know.

I could sit here forever,
in this tall, wild field,
beneath a sky
bluer than I ever imagined.

But even now,
in all this gentle quiet,
something heavy sits behind my ribs.
It doesn’t speak —
it doesn’t need to.

It just is,
and it always has been.
I watch your face tilt toward the sun,
like a flower that trusts spring to come.

And I wonder —
how do you do it?
How do you believe in warmth
when winter still lives in your chest?
You ask me if I’m okay,
and I say yes,
because it would break the moment if I didn’t.
Because you look so happy.
Because this field is beautiful,
and the sky is trying so hard
to love me back.

And maybe that’s enough for now.
To sit beside you,
ticking moments into the earth
like seeds that might one day grow
into something lighter than this.

The sun slips lower,
and everything turns to honey.
You lean back on your elbows,
laugh lines deepening as you squint toward the horizon.
I memorize them like scripture.

I don’t know how long I’ll feel like this —
like I’m walking through syrup,
like I’ve misplaced the parts of myself that used to shine.
But when you brush your hand against mine,
even accidentally,
I feel the tiniest pull back to the surface.

I want to believe that this is real.
That something so soft
can last in a world that feels so sharp.
That you won’t tire of waiting for the better version of me
I keep promising it's just around the bend.

I want to stay.
Not just here, in this meadow —
but here, with you,
in whatever this is
we are quietly building
between silences and eye rolls and tucked-in socks.

If I lose myself again —
if the dark comes fast —
please, just remind me of today.

Remind me that once,
in a field of tall grass,
I felt the light,                                                           ­                                                and I welcomed it in.

Freezing in your warm grip.
I don’t want to blame you —
you were never at fault.
You grew tired of sneaking around my shards,
too afraid of cutting me
to be yourself.

I am fragile,
hurt,
but I never meant
to turn you into that —
into something heavy with worry,
something stitched from empathy.
I never wanted your voice
to be a balm for my chaos.

You should have been the hammer,
breaking the glass around me
so I could finally breathe.
Help rebuild me —
if it’s not too late.

I know I pushed you away.
And the echo of that loss
has made me bitter,
too bitter to let you return.
This eternal, internal battle
will be the end
of the person you once loved.

The loss of you
will leave me changed —
not ruined,
but never the same.

Shadows of the words I said
cast darkness onto your sunlight.
I blocked the light from reaching you.
I stopped you from growing —
from blooming
into something beautiful.

The hot sand burned my feet
as we walked
side by side,
hand in hand.

But love,
spelled backwards,
is evol.

And as we rewind,
all I see
is how I hurt you.

Come back to me, my love.
The nights collapse without you.
Silence wraps around me like frost
and the stars — they whisper your name
so softly it bruises.
You haunt the darkness of my chest,
echo in the hollows
where your hands once rested.
Each breeze tastes like you,
feels like the breath you never took
when you left.
I reach for you in dreams
only to wake with fists full of absence.
I replay every moment —
not to remember you,
but to pretend you're still here with me.
Come back to me, my love.
Time has not healed me;
it has hollowed me out
to leave a space only for you.                                                                                                                   What they call healing
is just learning how to walk
without my heart.
I carry your ghost like an Armor,
like a wound that glows.
I should hate you
for leaving
but all I can do
is beg the air to bring you back.
Scars fade —
but you don’t.
You burn steady in my blood,
a name I cannot forget
even when I scream it into nothing.
I want to forget you —
and I don’t.
I want to erase you —
and hold you tighter.
If you stood beside me now,
I would be whole.
I would finally be real.
I am more myself
when I am with you.
And without you,
I am no one at all.

Clear the house and find old poems —
the ones never meant to be read,
never meant to be heard.
But you tore through them
like you tore through my soul.
I cannot do it.
I cannot bear the thought
of you reading my mind,
of you reading my soul.
Let me erase your memory
so we can live on.
The flowers have finished drying.
Time is ticking.
And we can’t rewind.
It is out of my control.
You stare at me with silent eyes —
the kind that stay still when I reach.
Let me make contact,
just once.
I didn’t have much regard
for the little things
until you left —
the smell of your hair
on the pillow next to mine,
the way your fingers curled in sleep,
or how you always left the light on,
just in case.
I walk through rooms
where your absence hums
louder than my footsteps.
I try to trace the memory of your voice
against the silence.
And still —
I would give anything
to hear you say my name again,
not with anger,
not with regret,
but softly,
as if you had never left.
For you have haunted me in my dreams
and will forever be a part
I cannot retrieve.
I would give anything
to be the version of myself
you once reached for
in the dark.

For what it’s worth,
those words tremble from my lips
more often than not —
unheard, unacknowledged,
as though I’m only ever half-there,
a shadow at the edge of your focus.
For what it’s worth,
you once had a place
in the quiet corners of my heart —
not a home,
but a storm shelter
cracked at the seams.
A battleground of quiet wars
where even silence left bruises.
I rewrite the truth,
try to shape it into something soft,
something you might believe.
But it slips through.
Nothing I do seems to hold.
Nothing feels certain.
I change direction
like a car caught in a roundabout —
circling, circling,
too afraid to choose a way out.
Every road leads somewhere,
and somewhere might hurt.
So I don’t move.
And while I stall,
the engine inside me starts to burn.
The pressure builds.
The heat rises.
But still — I wait.
Because moving means deciding,
and deciding means risking being wrong.
Help me.
Say something I understand.
Your silence is a language
I never learned to speak.
For what it’s worth —
I want to understand.
But I’m burning.
Slowly, completely —
as the engine heats up
and demands a choice.
Any exit might save me,
might stop the flames.
But I keep circling.
Until the engine explodes —
and pieces of me
fly in every direction,
even the ones I tried hardest to avoid.
Now, for what it’s worth,
all that’s left
is wreckage made from hesitation,
scattered through the silence
we never learned to break.

Nenne mich nicht bei meinem Namen,
nenne mich so, wie du mich erinnerst –
als Wärme zwischen kalten Tagen,
als Stimme, bevor ich verstummte.

Let me make it up to you.
I have disappointed you,
humiliated and hurt you,
my apologies taste like silence now.

Ich sehe dich in meinem Spiegel,
doch mein Blick weicht aus.
Akzeptanz rinnt langsam,
wie Sand durch zitternde Finger.

I am you, I am me,
split in the middle,
half apology, half hope.
And I don’t know which half is mine.

Hilf mir, mich wieder zu lieben,
wenn auch nur ein wenig –
wenn auch nur für einen Moment,
in dem dein Blick mich wieder trägt.

Let me rebuild the bridge I burned,
step by step, breath by breath.
I’m tired of being a stranger
in my own chest.

Ich schreibe mich neu
mit tobender Hand.
Kein Held, kein Retter,
nur jemand, der wieder anfangen will.

Decisions over discussions,
Help me find solace in my ruthless mind.
Glasses blur. Windows reflect.
Order has been lost.
Hell has frozen over.
Shadows are lit.
Nothing is right—
My thoughts race backwards.

I just want a place with you,
In the eternal sunshine of your heart.
You have cool hands.
Don’t make me change. I don’t want to.
Coastlines have cliffs and beaches—
But I am the wave,
Crashing again and again,
Never reaching.

Hold out your hand for me.
Let me grip it.
Trust me not to pull you down.
But you shake your head
As I drown,
The weight in my heart
Defies my kicking limbs.
Fireflies light up my face in the wild woods.
Streams run down my cheeks.
Lungs tear in half—
I am forced to stop.
Forced to stop running:
From you.
From me.
From my life.
From my mind.

Practice over skill,
But I am too tired to care.
Too tired to try.
Frozen at the edge of the bed.
Sweat saturates the sheets.
Vivid dreams
Rip me back to you.

I just want a place with you.