Been on the market for some time, but not really waiting
for what’s in store. __This heart__ — a brittle scaffold,
holding up a thousand regrets, building into a house
of missteps. It’s got too many stairs, and I keep misjudging
a couple steps. The pain feels unreal, reaching backward,
but everything we’ve done always lives in the past — _to pass._
The scars on my skin bear soil erosion; the body remembers
what the mind buries. And my teeth — slowly eroding —
still carry a brave smile, as if pretending counts as healing.
Sure, I can fake confidence, sure — but only for others.
Never for myself. No, not truly. Because really what’s
the point of buying into that sort of thing, when the price
of pretending always costs more than it’s worth?
Oct 18, 2025
Oct 18, 2025 at 2:25 PM UTC
Been on the market for some time, but not really waiting
for what’s in store. __This heart__ — a brittle scaffold,
holding up a thousand regrets, building into a house
of missteps. It’s got too many stairs, and I keep misjudging
a couple steps. The pain feels unreal, reaching backward,
but everything we’ve done always lives in the past — _to pass._
The scars on my skin bear soil erosion; the body remembers
what the mind buries. And my teeth — slowly eroding —
still carry a brave smile, as if pretending counts as healing.
Sure, I can fake confidence, sure — but only for others.
Never for myself. No, not truly. Because really what’s
the point of buying into that sort of thing, when the price
of pretending always costs more than it’s worth?
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