i hate how cold my stomach burns
when names I antagonize toward
land next to yours.
how my chest flickers like bad radio,
tuned to every syllable & echo of you.
i tell myself i’m fine with sharing,
neither watching, nor am I caring,
but the truth drips through my bloody teeth;
i care so loud it hums; unnerving.
they mirror that which i loved first,
trying on your favorite words
like cheap perfume,
and i pretend it doesn’t sting
while my pulse scrolls itself anew.
i know this is just fear,
dressed in neon envy here,
but still,
i want to be the gravity
you fall toward,
not the silence
you scroll past again.
so i write it down,
not to curse them,
not to blame you,
but to stop the ache
from building altars
to people
who are only passing through.
© fey (19/10/25)