It was supposed to be us
Our dreams, our goals, our lives
Our hopes, our future, our work
The family we were supposed to have
The fears we were supposed to overcome
The trials we were supposed to endure
The love we were supposed to save
It was supposed to be us
But now?
It's just me

I told others that your name

Is now a taboo; forbidden to be uttered

Because the mere mention of you

Hits me with everything we ever had

Hits me with everything we could have

Hits me to my core that I get stunned

By everything and anything of us 

So your name cannot be said by anyone

Unless it is whispered by me

for as long as i can remember,
i’ve been chasing perfect,
tight-laced, gold-star, quiet ache.
and for a while,
i think i caught it.

but i’m not perfect anymore.
i flinch too easy,
snap too fast,
leave texts unread,
pick at scabs that should’ve healed.

people still call me smart, kind, strong,
and i don’t correct them.
it’s easier to wear the mask
than explain the mess underneath.

i disappoint myself
in small, sharp ways,
forgetting, avoiding, breaking down.
i say “i’m fine”
because it’s faster
than confessing i’m not.

expectations stick like static,
even when no one says them out loud.
and i still feel guilty
for letting people love
someone i no longer recognize.

i hide the cuts
and call it healing.
i smile enough
to look like feeling.

i bled to feel,
then felt too much.
so now i flinch
at even touch.

no big event,
no cry for aid.
just pain, then choice,
then steel, then blade.

the scars are thin,
but memory lingers.
i still see red
between my fingers.

they call it pain,
i call it mine.
i earned the blood,
i crossed the line.