Love is allowed—
but being with you isn’t.
We live in the spaces between rules,
where wanting you feels like breaking something sacred.

I love you when I’m not supposed to.
I need your warmth, your touch,
even when I know I shouldn’t.

But how do I unlove the only person
who ever made me feel what love really is?
How do I silence a heart
that only beats louder in your name?

No one will understand—
that you’re the sunlight in my darkest thoughts,
that just your memory
can soften the hardest part of my day,
that you’re the reason
I still want to wake up tomorrow.

Our love is forbidden.
We’re not meant to be.
But I can’t help it.
I can’t stop loving you—
with every piece of me
that’s still somehow whole because of you.

You say I’m like a sister,
but your eyes
hold me too long.

You have someone—
yet I feel your soul
each time you smile at me.

So tell me,
is this kindness—
or something
you’re too afraid
to name?

You left once,
and I learned the silence.

So if you go again,
don’t expect a crack.
Not a tear,
not a tremble.

Not even
a single vein
will flinch.

I’ve already buried
what you broke.

You have someone.
So why do you look at me
like I’m the only one
in the room?

Why is your kindness
sharper with me,
your words softer,
your eyes lingering
a little too long?

You don’t treat them
like this.
You don’t treat anyone
like this.

So if your heart is taken,
why does mine
feel so caught?

They said I was beautiful,
and I smiled—
but secretly wished
it was you who said it.

They brought me flowers,
I opened the card,
heart racing,
hoping to see
your name.

Every time my phone lit up,
I hoped,
And prayed
it was your name.

Even when someone
called me the love of their life,
I only wished
you were the one saying it.

Because no matter who it was—
it’s always
been
you.

My life—
a lie I didn’t know I was living.

Truths left unsaid,
and now I’m drowning
in everything I’ll never know.

I don’t feel real.
I don’t feel mine.

Just a shadow
of someone
I never chose to be.

Do you even care?

Because I don’t understand.
Not friends,
not lovers—
just something in-between,
where I’m always guessing.

You come close,
then disappear,
like I was never enough
to stay for.

I don’t know what we are,
but I know
I’m the only one
hurting.