Your hands pin my wrists
like they belong to you.
The bed doesn’t feel soft—
it feels like a trap,
a surface I can’t escape from.

You say I love you
but the words sound wrong,
like they’re wearing someone else’s voice.
I twist,
once—
but your grip tightens
and the air in my chest
turns to stone.

My heartbeat is too loud.
I can hear it in my ears,
pounding like it’s trying to break free
even if I can’t.
I want to shout,
but my voice is caught
somewhere between my lungs and my throat.

I try to push you away,
but you’re heavier than the fear
sitting on my ribs.
I can’t move.
Not because you’re holding me down—
though you are—
but because my body has decided
stillness is safer than fighting.

If I stay quiet,
maybe you’ll stop.
But you keep going,
and keep pushing.
I try to scream but my words are locked behind a glass case.
And the harder I hit the more the glass shatters.

You said I love you
like you meant forever,
like I could hand you my trust
and sleep without fear.

That night,
love became a mask you wore
while you took something
I never gave.

You didn’t ask—
you decided.
And my body
became a place I didn’t recognize.

Forty-eight hours.
That’s all it took
for your words to rot.
For you to disappear
like I was nothing but a name
you’d already forgotten.

No call.
No message.
Just silence—
and the weight of what you left in me.

I scroll back to your I love you
and wonder
if you were already planning your exit
while I was still believing
you were real.

Now, every time I hear those words,
I feel the night you stole from me.
And I wonder
if you ever think about it,
or if you buried it
as easily as you buried me.

The night didn’t end when the sun came.
It stayed —
inside my skin,
behind my ribs,
pressing against every quiet moment.

I am not the same shape I was before.
Something splintered.
Something spilled.
And no matter how I try,
I can’t fit myself back together
without cutting my hands.

People say time heals.
But time is just another room
I have to survive in.
Some days,
the walls breathe with me.
Other days,
they close in until I’m small enough
to disappear.

I am careful with my body now,
like it’s made of thin glass
that could shatter if anyone
looks too long.
I wear my clothes like armor,
but I still feel your hands
in the seams.

I speak less.
Laughter feels foreign,
like it belongs to someone I used to know.
And when people ask if I’m okay,
I nod,
because telling the truth
would empty me completely.

The mirrors are harder to face.
Not because of what I see,
but because of what’s missing —
the light in my eyes,
the looseness in my shoulders,
the girl who didn’t know
how quickly safety can turn into ruin.

I want to scream,
but my voice feels like a locked drawer.
I want to forget,
but forgetting means losing
what’s left of me too.

Some nights,
I lie still enough
to hear my heartbeat echo in my ears.
It’s proof.
Proof that I’m here.
Proof that they didn’t erase me completely,
even if they tried.

And still —
I keep waking up.
Not because I want to,
but because my heart refuses
to give you the ending you wrote for me

I’m sinking in this sea of doubt,  
Caught in the words I never shout,  
A chameleon in every space,  
Trying so hard to find my place.  

I'm sorry for the times I’ve bent,  
A puppet on strings, my will misspent,  
I’ve smiled too wide, too often played,  
The part of someone I’ve betrayed.  

Forgive me, please, for losing sight,  
Of who I am in your bright light,  
I’ve chased your happiness with fears,  
An anxious heart that sheds its tears.  

Did I let you down? I hope not much,  
Each hope entwined with guilty touch,  
I’ve tried to fit, to please, to blend,  
Yet worried if I’ll lose a friend.  

My words, they stumble, they twist and turn,  
For every nod, my stomach churns,  
I worry often, am I enough?  
This battle rages; it feels so tough.  

I’m so sorry for the weight I place,  
On fragile dreams, on love and grace,  
I don’t want this to be the scene,  
Yet struggle silent, caught in between.  

Please understand my trembling hands,  
The way my heart, it barely stands,  
I’ll work to be more true to me,  
And hope in time you’ll still see me.  

So here’s my promise, whispered low,  
To tread with care, to let you know,  
I’m sorry for the anxious dance,  
I’ll strive for me, while we take this chance.

It’s in these moments that I feel invisible

Like my presence doesn’t even matter in a world this vast

Each thought weighs heavy, as I question my purpose

Searching for a single person to care amidst the noise



It’s hard not to feel like a ghost when I’m clearly unseen

Unwanted

Un-asked for

It would be easier if I could just slip to the shadows altogether



Maybe if I were more open then you would listen

To my silent screams ricocheting off these concrete walls

But you still look past me with eyes glazed over

In the spotlight’s warmth, I steal the scene,
The world’s greatest actress, or so it seems.
With every line, I weave a tale,
A shimmering story, but inside I fail.

Costumed in confidence, adorned in pride,
I play my grand role while the truth tries to hide.
Behind the applause, where shadows meet,
Lies the whispering doubt, a bittersweet retreat.

I step on the stage, and I shine like a star,
Yet inside my heart, I wonder who you are.
With each bow I take, the crowd1 hears my name,
But deep in my chest, I feel only shame.

An imposter, it whispers, a charade of my own,
In the castle of dreams, I’m still all alone.
I wear my disguise—a mask so well-crafted,
Yet the truth of my being feels tattered and fractured.

Every standing ovation feels heavy, not light,
As if they’ve all missed the flicker of fright.
I craft my performances with grace and finesse,
But behind all the glamour, I’m lost in the mess.

A jester in daylight, a wanderer at night,
I chase validation, but it’s never in sight.
If they only could see the cracks in my smile,
The tension that lingers, the fear all the while.

Yet still I will act, as the curtain draws near,
A tapestry woven with threads of my fear.
For even amid doubts, I’ll embrace every part,
A flawed masterpiece crafted from heart.

In this grand play called life, I’ll wear my disguise,
A work in progress, with truth in my eyes.
And though I may falter, my spirit won’t break,
For every performance, it’s realness I make.