maybe one day, we’ll be stronger,
not measuring our worth in broken promises,
not testing our willpower like it’s a game
we were never meant to win.

maybe one day, the nights won’t stretch so long,
filled with caffeine and quiet ache,
or sharp edges and softer regrets,
as we wait for something to change.

i can’t promise to stop,
and neither can you,
but maybe one day,
we won’t have to.

i miss knowing your life,
not just you.
i know your soul like it’s my own,
yet i don’t even know
what daily life looks like to you anymore.
you took a part of me
that day in early july,
a part of me i’ll never get back,
but wouldn’t want to, either.
you took summer with you
and since then
things haven’t been the same.

i told you i was working out
and you said, “wait, you work out?”
you didn’t mean it like that,
of course,
but it still stung.
and you didn’t mean to hurt me,
but i can’t shake the feeling that i’m not enough.
i shouldn’t have to prove
that i’m strong enough
because i never am.

and if
i admit it
am i
weak
because
i need
you?

this
is not
logical

i know

but
this is
my fear

i know it’s wrong to love them,
those ugly, neat red lines,
stacked like tally marks,
like proof that i still feel something.
they stretch across my skin,
disgusting, maybe,
but mine.