i miss my independence.
this whole holiday –
the point was
for the two of us
to get away.

instead, it lifted the pink fog,
and all i can see
is the change.

us, us, us.
we, we, we.

there’s no space for my thoughts.
where they used to live,
the quiet room
is now a nursery.

and the shift is deafening.

there’s no more me.
just the polite,
domestic ghost
haunting me.

i don’t know
how to have the talk.
this is the first time
i’m handed something
that aims to last.

people leave me
like wind leaves the gate.
pushed open, unlatched.
shapes altering to blur
as i watch them
dissolve in the distance.

i wish to crown myself
the ice queen i once was—
safe, untouchable,
heart locked behind glass.

then the silence wouldn’t bite.
and i wouldn’t lie awake—
wondering why the hell
their world moved on,
and why mine stayed.

you lifted me in a dream,
like it was nothing—
like the years hadn’t passed
like storms
through our bodies.

we spun until dizzy,
grinning like we used to:
in a world filled
with lollipops,
doorway dates,
and curfews.

you never kissed me
the way stories end.
you only loved me
in the narrow space
between your name
and your friend’s.

you told me
i should be with someone good,
someone who could hold
all my stories.
but never said,
someone like you.

you held my heart
when it spilled,
drunk, full of ache,
and my hand on a bench
before life swelled
and whisked us away.

no fallout.
no fight.
just the silence.

you told me
you broke up with her.
congratulations.

i’m still nothing more
than heat under covers,
wearing
the silent regret
of my own shame,

whilst my reflection,
revolted, stares back
at what i became.

we play two rounds of pool.
he beats me twice.
now the air between us
is nothing but teeth and heat—
and in my head
he’s already got me
on the table,
thirsty for every part of me.

he grins, asks
exactly what i’m thinking,
and god,
he’s right—
it is too fast.
a week in,
we’re breathing
nothing but each other.

so i settle into his lap
just to rest my head,
to counteract—
this.
us.

but his mouth
finds mine,
and the world
tilts open.

i wandered downstairs,
and found you there –
my boss.
wearing
my friend’s sleepwear.

before i could
muster a word,
you asked about him –
my housemate,
with the angelic hair.

i laughed it off,
but you asked again.
serious.

you filled her coffee mug,
disappeared upstairs,
leaving me unable
to get your nonsense
out of my head.

now i’m rewinding the years,
pulling up the time
i’d have jumped
at the thought of this.

it’s not like that.
it's platonic.
except when i forget
what he’s saying,
shoulder brushing mine,
and wonder —
if i leaned in,
would i be allowed...

we were friends once,
until you shut me out,
angry that your lover —
the married one —
tried to take me
when he wasn’t allowed.

the blame poured on me.

but i begged you back,
forgiving him, and you.
call me naïve,
but i forgave myself, too —
though there wasn’t much to.

i still thank heaven
you left me sore and reeling
before my wedding.

i’d have hated for you
to show up, smiling,
immortalised in photos,
as a maid of pretending.