emotional pain doesn’t have a home,
but physical pain does.
that’s why i cut.

you are piano melodies.
every note soft, deliberate, aching.
i know your music by heart
but i can’t touch the keys.

your hair is chaos
in the most gentle way.
messy brown strands
i want to smooth down
just once.
just once.

your eyes.
golden brown and searching,
like they’re always looking
for something deeper,
just never in me.

and when you smile,
the world gets quiet.
it’s not a metaphor,
it’s just what happens.
like the sky pauses
to listen to you be kind.

your laugh sounds like music.
not the sad kind, either.
the kind that fills a room
and makes it feel warmer.
and god,
i wish it were for me.

but this is how i love you:
at a distance.
in silence.
from behind the safety
of poems and timing
and unspoken things.

you are not mine.
but some loves don’t ask
for ownership,
just the privilege
of still feeling them.

i went to the doctor
to check in on my meds.
i told her that nothing felt different.
she celebrated like it was good.
i don’t think it is.
i think i need something to change,
right now.

she begged me to show her
the cuts stacked neatly on my leg.
but i wouldn’t.
no one should see my pain,
not when she’ll look at it
with disgust.

i found
i couldn’t look her in the eye.
this is because
she had brilliant brown eyes,
and they reminded me of yours.
i think they’re gorgeous
but it also hurt to see.

i wish we could still talk.
maybe i’ll say hello to you,
but i don’t know what else i’d say
and if you would even
want to hear from me.
don’t forget,
you can always reach out.

school is almost over,
and i’m glad.
summer means working my *** off,
and summer means
i don’t have to see you
and feel that pain in my chest.

i miss you i miss you.
despite your comment on my poem,
you’re not some stupid boy.
and i know that
because i am not a stupid girl.
i wouldn’t give my heart
to someone who didn’t deserve it.

“can’t repeat the past?” he said.
“why of course you can.”
and god, i believed him.
still do, most days.
because i see you
in every flash of spring,
in the gold glint of things
i was never meant to hold.

the green light still blinks,
even if it’s just in my head,
a soft pulse saying
you were real,
you were mine,
once.

i built my love the way he did:
with trembling hands,
and too much hope.
like maybe if i hurt enough,
time will fold in on itself,
and we’ll be sixteen
and invincible
again.

but dreams die slow,
especially the beautiful ones.
and i’m still reaching across water
for something
that won’t reach back.

i keep thinking:
the past isn’t dead
if i still ache for it.
but maybe that’s just part
of the story i keep telling myself,
a softer lie
than letting go.

i can’t decide if it’s weird
to write these still,
knowing that you could read them.
only if you wanted to.
i can’t decide.

but i’ll write anyway,
because if i can’t talk to you,
i might as well write.
we talk a little bit,
but i can’t decide if it’s nice
or if it hurts.

but we’ll talk anyway.
a little bit i guess.
i don’t know.
today is just
a day of indecision.
isn’t that my whole problem?

the first time,
i couldn’t decide if
i should follow my heart,
or listen to my family.
i chose my family.
i regret it every day.

the second time,
i couldn’t decided what i wanted.
did i want you?
or just your friendship?
i was confused.
but i’m not anymore.

the third time,
i couldn’t make the decision.
i couldn’t do what had to be done
so that we could be us.
together.
i’m ******* stupid.
and now it’s too late.

i could’ve sworn
love started with an s
and ended with an n,
four letters that felt
like home in my mouth.

your name,
a prayer i whispered
into my pillowcase,
half-hope, half-memory.

i still trace it
on foggy windows
and in the quiet parts
of my day.

i keep forgetting
how to forget you.