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Athena_c6Poems
You love me like a dare whispered at midnight— reckless, grinning, already halfway gone before I can answer. One day you hold my face like it is something holy, thumb brushing my skin soft enough to convince me I am safe with you. The next, you turn distant as winter glass, cold enough to make me question if warmth ever happened at all. I have memorized your contradictions. The way your eyes beg me to stay while your actions teach me to leave. The way you pull me close only to joke about my feelings when they become too real. You make love feel like standing barefoot in a storm— beautiful for a moment, until the lightning remembers what it was made to destroy. And still, I search for hidden meanings inside every cruel laugh, every mixed signal, every silence stretched too long. Because loving you has turned me into a translator for pain. I tell myself you are just scared, just wounded, just a boy pretending not to care because caring would expose the softness beneath your skin. But some nights I wonder if you enjoy watching me chase certainty through the maze you built. You say my name like it matters. Then disappear like it doesn’t. And the tragedy is not that I love you— it is that loving you has made me suspicious of tenderness itself. Now when you touch my hand, I no longer ask whether it feels good. I ask how long before you let go.
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May 21
May 21, 2026 at 11:22 PM UTC
The Way You Hold Lightning
You love me like a dare whispered at midnight— reckless, grinning, already halfway gone before I can answer. One day you hold my face like it is something holy, thumb brushing my skin soft enough to convince me I am safe with you. The next, you turn distant as winter glass, cold enough to make me question if warmth ever happened at all. I have memorized your contradictions. The way your eyes beg me to stay while your actions teach me to leave. The way you pull me close only to joke about my feelings when they become too real. You make love feel like standing barefoot in a storm— beautiful for a moment, until the lightning remembers what it was made to destroy. And still, I search for hidden meanings inside every cruel laugh, every mixed signal, every silence stretched too long. Because loving you has turned me into a translator for pain. I tell myself you are just scared, just wounded, just a boy pretending not to care because caring would expose the softness beneath your skin. But some nights I wonder if you enjoy watching me chase certainty through the maze you built. You say my name like it matters. Then disappear like it doesn’t. And the tragedy is not that I love you— it is that loving you has made me suspicious of tenderness itself. Now when you touch my hand, I no longer ask whether it feels good. I ask how long before you let go.
Athena_c6
Written by
Athena_c6
15/F
May 21
May 21, 2026 at 11:22 PM UTC
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