I don’t think I have it in me again
To hand someone my heart
like a peace offering
only for them to treat it like a placeholder
until something better walks in

I don’t think I have it in me again
To soften my voice
to dim my truth
to rearrange myself just to fit inside someone else’s version
of love

I’ve sat in rooms where love sounded like promises
and felt like pressure
Where silence was punishment
and vulnerability was currency
they never planned to repay

You ever love so loud
your own soul went mute?

Well, I did

Gave someone the unfiltered version of me
the trembling hands
the past I don't speak of
the joy I stitched together with borrowed thread
and watched them leave
like it cost them nothing
to unlove me

So no
I don’t think I have it in me again

I’ve smiled in mirrors
I was too shattered to trust
held people close
who only came to collect
made excuses for red flags
because I’d rather bleed than be alone

I let people camp in my softness
and then got blamed
for the fire they started inside it

So now
if you whisper my name with longing
don't expect rose petals and candlelight
If your touch feels like possession
and your words sound like control
I'll leave before you even notice I'm gone

Because now I live in caution tape
and not everyone gets past the yellow lines

I don’t think I have it in me again

To explain why silence became my safe place
why I don’t cry in front of people anymore
why I ghost conversations
when they get too close to where it hurts

I don’t think I have it in me again
To gamble time
to risk my sanity
to hand someone the pen
and pray they don’t rewrite my story as tragedy

So if you want access
be earthquake-proof
Be sanctuary; not spectacle
Because if you say you love storms
you better know how to swim through the flood

I don't come in pieces anymore
I come as wreckage
as warning
as a survivor who’s not asking for rescue
but respect

And if you're not ready to hold space
for someone who's had to hold themselves
for far too long

Then leave the door closed

Because I don’t think I have it in me again
Not to fake smiles
Not to settle for half
Not to beg for the kind of love
I already gave to myself

I don't think I have it in me again
But if I do
you’ll have to earn it
with presence
with patience
with proof

I used to ask;
“How much did you miss me?”
like a child tugging at silence
hoping it might speak love in return
But your eyes always darted away
like the truth was too shy to show its face

Still; I waited
Waited to hear anything
even a lie dressed as affection
You could’ve said
"All the time"
and I would’ve built a home inside that fantasy

Now the room echoes
and I’m the only one listening to ghosts
Does your night flicker quietly...
with memories of the way we once were?
Do the jokes that once lit up your smile...
still ignite laughter or just smoke?

And when the world plays our old song
do you hum along  or skip the track?
Do the things that made you cry...
still pull at the same wound?
Do the things that made you smile...
feel smaller now; without me?

I wonder...
when you're caught off guard by a scent
a street name; or the tilt of a stranger’s head
do you think...
"That used to be us"
or do you think nothing at all?

Because I remember everything
the tone of your voice when it softened
the shape of your silence when it didn't
And though it sounds pathetic now
I would’ve swallowed every sweet untruth
if it meant feeling loved; even briefly

So tell me
did you miss me?
Your once favourite human
Or am I just a chapter...
you never bothered to finish reading?

Today
when my friends asked after you
I froze
not the kind of freeze that chills the skin
but the kind that paralyzes memory
I stared blank like a cursed cursor on an unsaved page
a heart buffering
because how do you respond to a question
that tastes like salt in an open wound

I thought to say you’re fine
that we talked last night
that you laughed the way you used to
like the moonlight wasn't so far out of reach
I thought to paint a picture that never existed
hold up my fantasy like a canvas in the Louvre of lies

But that would be a lie; wouldn’t it?
That would be me playing God with truth
molding fiction from the clay of my denial
That would be me feeding poison to my peace
me...
serving myself self-sabotage on a silver plate
as if my soul wasn’t already choking on unpaid debts
and unanswered prayers

So I said nothing
Nothing  because silence is safer than make-believe
Nothing  because I’d rather be empty
than full of stories I made up to stay afloat

And when they laughed
when they said
“C’mon bro; it ain’t that deep”
I looked them
dead in the eye and said...
Don’t ask me silly questions
Don’t ask me about ghosts I’m still haunted by
Don’t bring up her name like it’s not a spell
like it won’t summon all the soft places I bled in silence

Don’t ask me how she is
when I’m still figuring out how I am
without her

Because you see
you can’t ask the sun
how the eclipse feels

You can’t ask the wound
to describe the blade

And you can’t ask me
the boy she left behind
to tell you anything true
when I’m still trying to write the ending
in a language my heart doesn’t speak yet

So no;
don’t ask me if she’s fine
Don’t ask me if I’m okay
Don’t ask me anything that starts with “Did you two”
because we didn’t
We almost did
But almost never heals
Almost is the name of every poem I wrote for her
that never ended with “goodbye”

So I told them
don’t ask me silly questions
unless you’re ready for honest answers
wrapped in broken metaphors
and bleeding metaphysics

Because the only truth left between us
is the one I whisper in poems
that no one will ever read

I thought I was the closest
Not just near in distance...  I mean in essence
in meaning
The echo their soul called out
when silence grew loud
The secret they’d whisper
when the world turned too proud
The soft place... the hush
the first thought at dusk

The one they'd whisper to when the light's dimmed
Their confession booth when guilt got grim
Their calm before storms
Their safe before harm
Their anchor; their breath  not just a charm
I didn’t just guess this
They made it seem like scripture; written on skin

The voice they’d search for in chaos
The map to clarity when they got lost
The voice that threaded peace into panic;
Who'd speak light into their havoc;
Call their name and the world would slow
I was the calm within their undertow

The face that anchored their peace
Where they’d find laughter; where anxieties cease
The picture they’d hold when they closed their eyes;
The only truth beneath a thousand lies
I believed I was their favorite view;
Their mirror; their muse; their ever-true

A sacred name resting on the cushion of their heartbeat
Pronounced with softness; like a hymn incomplete
I swore I lived in the folds of their chest
Right between yesterday’s pain and tomorrow’s rest
I wasn’t just in love; I thought I was loved
An answered prayer; a gift sent from above

I thought I was it
Not a maybe; not a placeholder
Not just a name on a long list
But the name... the highlight... the gold ink on their wrist
And I wore that belief like a badge; so sure
Even framed my worth in how they adored

Not out of arrogance
Not vanity
But because love; when consistent... feels like clarity
And they were consistent  or so it seemed
Even silence between us felt like a dream
The quiet was warm; not distant or mean
I mean; how could I doubt what felt so serene

But out of how gently they laughed at my jokes
As if every punchline gave them hope
How they smiled before I even spoke
And waited; like I was always worth the quote
Out of how they lingered when they said my name
Like each syllable had its own flame

How they held my hand like the world might end if they let go
As if letting go meant losing the glow
As if I was both the moment and the memory
Both the journey and the remedy
I thought I was the sun in their orbit
And maybe I was
Until the shadow crept in and distorted it

So I made a home in their heart
Built it brick by brick; every word a part
Furnished it with trust
Hung paintings of moments
Framed laughter in the corners
Lit candles of atonement

But then...
There came a day
A ripple in the pattern
A crack in the clay
A small shift  like a cough in a quiet theatre
Something out of place
Like a voice breaking in a prayer

An emergency
A silence
A crossroad
A dance with absence no one foretold
And in the middle of their storm
When lightning struck; and winds took form
They reached for someone else

Not me
Not the hand they once claimed to need
Not the voice that calmed them in grief
Not the warmth they called home
Not the arms they used to run toward when cold
No  not me
Not the version I swore was gold

They told the news to someone else first
They let them hear the tremble; the burst
They cried in someone else’s arms
They curled up in a different calm
They needed warmth
and mine wasn’t the fire they sought

That’s when I learned
Love can be loud and still lie
It can shine like a sun before it says goodbye
Spotlights lie
They burn bright and blind
Until you can't see you're not centerstage at all

I thought I was the dearest
But I was just there
Not the safe place
Not the sanctuary
Just; background comfort
The one you forget when your real one's back
A season; A chapter; A scenic track
And it took all of me not to scream into the sky
"Was it all pretence? Was I just nearby?"

I smiled through the fracture
Held back the flood
Walked through the ruins wearing their love like mud
Swallowed the lesson like bitter medicine
Sometimes; the one you’d leap for
Wouldn’t even call your name in the fall

And that’s the cruelty of assumption
To believe you're their person
Only to learn
You're just a person

It took from me
Chipped away bit by bit
Drained me… well, almost completely.
Yes, I’m not whole
But I’m still art

Cracked canvas
Worn edges
Colors bled into corners
Where joy used to sleep

They see the ruin
But miss the strokes
They touch the scars
But not the story

I am the gallery of everything I survived
Every tear; a brushstroke
Every silence; a signature
Every goodbye; an unfinished line

No, I’m not whole
But wholeness was never the goal
I was meant to be a masterpiece of endurance
A mosaic of moments that didn’t **** me

So let them stare
Let them call it pain
I call it process

I call it proof
That beauty lives
Even in what’s been broken

Have you ever been drained
To the point you'd feel...
It's time to call a quit
And bid this lonesome world goodbye
But your soul won't leave things be
It keeps holding on to dear life
Like it's some sort of sacred myth
Etched in the bone of strife

When breathing feels like debt
And peace becomes a tease
Your body is a wrecked cassette
Playing pain on endless lease
The walls whisper your nam
But silence is what replies
You're tired of playing this game
Of truth buried beneath bright lies

You close your eyes, not to rest
But to wonder what death might mean
Would it feel like sleep undressed?
Or a dream too raw and clean?
But life grips you by the throat
Not letting go, not yet
And though you drift like a sinking boat
You're still anchored by regret

You tried to speak...
But the words won’t come out.
They curl in your chest like smoke,
choking the shout.
Air barely escapes your lungs,
as if silence has sewn
your ribs into a cage
and named it home.

You’re drowning.
But not in oceans; in open rooms.
The ceiling blinks like hospital moons.
Water floods where your voice gave out,
filling the hollow your hope once sprouted.

You always thought
you wanted to die.
But when your fingers slipped,
you clawed at life.
And that’s when truth
pulled up a chair…
Death only teaches
when it’s already there.

It stared you down,
with hollow eyes,
and you saw your soul
no disguise.
It didn’t scream...
It didn’t rage...
It ust watched,
as you turned the page.

You cut
but never too deep.
Enough to feel,
but not enough to sleep.
The sting was real,
but fleeting, brief
a substitute...
for silent grief.

The pain scared you,
but not as much
as the people outside,
the words, the touch
the weight of being
"okay" each day,
the lies you whispered
when they'd say...
"Are you fine?"
"Are you alright?"
And you’d just nod,
too tired to fight.

You took the pills
a calculated flood,
enough to flirt
but not to flood.
They should've carried you...
to quiet ends,
but only wheeled you
to white-lit bends.

Oh, not again
It's a hospital bed,
not a deathbed call.
Machines that beep,
white coats in the hall.
Oh, I guess....
the pills didn't work
and next you've got
the bitter taste...
of “not quite gone,”
and questions like,
"What went wrong?"

You’ve written more goodbyes poems...
than the years you’ve lived.
Each one stained...
with all you give.
Some you burned,
some you hid,
some just sat
where you never did.

Yet you write them still,
as if each word bleeds,
hoping one day
your ink recedes.
That the pen runs dry,
and with its breath
you vanish softly,
into death.

But here's the truth
you’ve come to pen
You’re here. You’re cracked.
But not the end.
And maybe pain
has taught you more
than silence ever did before.

So you write
not to say goodbye…
But to empty the scream
you’ve held inside.
To bleed on paper,
not your skin,
To let the healing
slowly begin.

And if someday
the ink runs out
You’ll hold the page,
not fear, not doubt.
Because every line
that you have written,
proves you're still here.
Still fighting.
Still bitten
by the ache
but still breathing.
Still broken
but still believing.