I'm lost in the depths of my own mind,

suffocating under the weight of my thoughts.

Reality is distorted,

truth and lies are intertwined.

Every moment feels like a ticking time bomb,

waiting to unleash its destruction.

I'm paralyzed by the fear of being hurt again.

You're a potential threat,

a risk I'm not willing to take.

I scrutinize your every move,

waiting for the inevitable mistake.

But beneath this façade of self preservation,

a voice whispers the painful truth:

I'm the one who's broken, I'm the one who's afraid.

The ghosts of the past still haunt me,

their echoes reverberating through my soul.

I'm trapped in this cycle of fear,

pushing away anyone who dares to get close.

I'm convinced I'm better off alone,

safe behind the walls I've built.

Yet, in this isolation,

I'm drowning in my own despair,

longing for connection,

but terrified of the vulnerability it requires.

This self imposed exile is a double edged sword.

It protects me from the pain of rejection,

but also denies me the warmth of human connection.

I'm a master of deflection,

disguising my fear as indifference.

I'll push you away, test your resolve,

and measure your love by the distance

you're willing to travel.

But what if you stay?

What if you see beyond the armor I've crafted,

beyond the scars and the fears?

What if you touch the fragile heart beating beneath?

The thought sends shivers down my spine.

For vulnerability is a risk I've never been willing to take.

Yet, the possibility tantalizes me,

It's like a siren's call to the depths of my soul.

In this tug of war between heart and head,

I'm torn asunder.

And a part of me yearns to surrender,

to let go of the controls and freefall into the unknown.

Another part clings to the familiar,

the comfort of solitude, the certainty of pain.

And so I hover,

suspended between two worlds,

unsure which path to choose.

For the silence in here is deafening,

mirroring a reflection of the war raging within me.

I held your hand as you disentangled from her
you did not move closer to me

I assuaged your worst fears
you fueled mine

I was fully present and attentive
you took calls that came in . . . and didn’t call back

I asked questions
you answered different ones

I made you a playlist
you never acknowledged

I made plans and reservations
you did not show

I gave you the benefit of every doubt
you did not reassure me

I made myself vulnerable
you remained ensconced

I created space in my life
you did not explore

I dared to dream about us
you dreamed about . . . I don’t know

I gave you my body
you reached for your phone

I gave you my heart
you did not reciprocate

I get it now
you are just not that into me

Only wish I knew sooner.
Goodbye.

Masks is all I've ever known. All i thought i knew was camouflaged by the complacent world around me. I grew with a fool's sight and an idiot's judgement. I learned eventually, that everyone gets to make their own mask.  You knew how to pull mine away from my skin for moments that seemed to stand still, lacking oxygen. I got defensive at the fact that your mask was so thick, and seemed to be sewn into your cheeks. I never even got to see you remove the mask before the tides yanked me into the storm of insanity. My heart slows at the sight of the empty roads, they remind me of the look in your eyes the night you told me I wasn't worth the trouble. I'm galaxies away from a place to call home. The dark sky mocks me in a way I never thought so heart wrenching.  The lights don't comfort me like they did before your eyes grazed across my skin. It wasn't until you left I realized you were using bullets instead of kisses. And my shell shock still persists. I have gun shells lodged in my skin. Your subliminal phrases struck glass into my mouth like lightning, which runs like tornadoes through my lungs. When I breathe out, all that escapes is you. I thought I was tough using your words as armor, i was convinced that that is what tough was. I didn't let anyone remove the metal from my chest, and no one gained access to the tender parts of my body. I believed in my heart that I was protecting myself, building an imaginary shield. Encasing myself in fear and caution.  But now I can see the glass in my lungs was only smoke from the cigarettes I held onto late at night, a substitute for your hand in mine. The artillery living inside my skin was just purple scars and it wasn't shock, it was highly dilated pain. Heart stopping, ***** inducing pain. And it wasn't going to go away. Because if I'm using my pain as armor, when can happiness ever replace that?