Every day,

something inside me whispers

leave.



You tear at me,

sometimes without knowing,

and when you do know,

you wear the look of someone

who thinks I’m faking the hurt.



I chose you.

Why can’t you see that?

You measure my flaws

but never my effort.

You say—

If someone else makes you happy, choose them.

And I wonder,

how can you speak those words

and not feel the blade in them?

You think you’re setting me free,

but all I hear

is that you don’t care

whether I stay

or disappear.



The truth?

There is no “someone else.”

There’s only you.

And still I cry,

because you imagine

another heart in mine.

Then you say—

I love you.

But how can I trust those words

when your doubt

is louder than your love?



It hurts—

because I’m still willing to stay

in your storm,

still willing to breathe

your poison air,

still willing to let you

tear me apart,

piece by piece—

knowingly or unknowingly—

and yet choose you

until the day I die

in your arms.



She—

the one who knows my soul—

is scared.

Disappointed.

She sees me choosing you over myself,

and fears the day

I might choose you over her.

I swore to her I never would,

but deep down I know—

if it came to that,

I would.

Because I always almost do.



We dreamed a future,

but now you say

I am not yet your soulmate—

though you want me

to carry your child.

I understand—

marriage is not the prize for either of us.

But if it were with you,

it would be.



You say love alone

cannot hold a lifetime,

that even someone who loves you

could still betray you.

And I see—

you are broken too.

A bird with bruised wings,

shielded by pride and ego.

And I—

only shattered glass,

stripped of dignity.



We were young when we began.

Back then,

we were real.

Now our words drift without roots.

Once, we grew from each other’s views—

now we listen to the noise of the world,

not the rhythm of our hearts.



Still, baby—

I will stand in your fire.

I will let you burn me.



And I hope one day

you will see—

my love was never

fake.