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Athena_c6Poems
She loved him quietly, like rain loves windows— soft, unnoticed, always there. She memorized the curve of his laugh, the tired way he rubbed his eyes, how his voice changed when he spoke about dreams he was too scared to chase. But his eyes— they wandered somewhere else. Toward a girl with sharp lipstick smiles and midnight promises, a girl who held hearts like temporary jewelry, wearing them only long enough to feel adored. He called it love. She called it hunger. Because love does not leave bruises where trust should be. Love does not vanish when the room gets quiet or the lights come on. Still, he ran toward her like fire toward gasoline, while the girl who truly cared stood in the background holding oceans in her chest and pretending they were not drowning her. She wanted to tell him— I would’ve loved the broken parts too. Not just his smile in crowded rooms, not just his hands in the dark, but the ache, the fear, the silence. Instead, she watched him bleed affection into someone who only loved the feeling of being wanted. And some nights, she hated herself for hoping he would finally see the difference between being touched and being treasured.
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May 13
May 13, 2026 at 8:16 PM UTC
Borrowed Heart
She loved him quietly, like rain loves windows— soft, unnoticed, always there. She memorized the curve of his laugh, the tired way he rubbed his eyes, how his voice changed when he spoke about dreams he was too scared to chase. But his eyes— they wandered somewhere else. Toward a girl with sharp lipstick smiles and midnight promises, a girl who held hearts like temporary jewelry, wearing them only long enough to feel adored. He called it love. She called it hunger. Because love does not leave bruises where trust should be. Love does not vanish when the room gets quiet or the lights come on. Still, he ran toward her like fire toward gasoline, while the girl who truly cared stood in the background holding oceans in her chest and pretending they were not drowning her. She wanted to tell him— I would’ve loved the broken parts too. Not just his smile in crowded rooms, not just his hands in the dark, but the ache, the fear, the silence. Instead, she watched him bleed affection into someone who only loved the feeling of being wanted. And some nights, she hated herself for hoping he would finally see the difference between being touched and being treasured.
Athena_c6
Written by
Athena_c6
15/F
May 13
May 13, 2026 at 8:16 PM UTC
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