Tequilla

Tequilla Jul 19

unseen

something 'bout the way
 you had no clue 
that this whole time
 i was in love with you

every time you said my name,
 it finally felt like it was mine
, not some borrowed thing
 i watched strangers wear better
 than i ever could

you made me feel 
like i had a body worth holding,
 a soul that wasn’t just echo
 and i still never told you

because the scars, 
they open
 blood dripping
 staining me
 until all i see
 is hurt and broken 
and that’s why i hide,
 that’s why i run,
 that’s why i drink,
 because then
 at least 
i’m actually real

i loved you 
so quietly
 i disappeared in it

and you,
 you never saw me
 not really 
not once

god, how could you not?

#love #crush

Tequilla Jul 14

illusions

i’ve never loved, not like they say,
not in that soul-devouring way.
i’ve never been held like i'm the light,
never been kissed like it felt right.’

not the love a parent gives with grace,
i’ve had that—warmth, a safer place.
but not the fire, the fevered kind,
the touch that melts both flesh and mind.

they say love burns, leaves marks so deep,
keeps you awake when you should sleep.
but all i’ve felt is passing skin,
lust that ends where it begins.

i thought i loved, i really tried,
but now i know—i might have lied.
i’ve chased a ghost i never knew,
and every time, it slipped right through.

maybe love’s not mine to find,
maybe it’s written for another kind.
maybe my fate is words on page,
a heart that bleeds but hides its cage.

so i write it down, instead of speak,
my hands are strong, but my voice is weak.
i’m scared to love, to lose control,
to let someone in and not stay whole.

perhaps i’m meant to ache in rhyme,
to love through poems, line by line.
maybe my heart was built to break,
to write the love i’ll never make.

all this time i tried convincing myself that i had something that i couldn't hold or see
11/07/25

Tequilla Jul 14

borrowed skin

i live in this body i barely know,
twisted and shaped just to make you glow.
every move rehearsed, every smile forced,
drowning in silence you never endorsed.

i cut to feel what you never gave,
blood on my skin, my soul a grave.
each slice goes deeper, still not enough,
bleeding myself raw to prove my love.

my skin’s on fire, burns through the night,
all this pain hidden out of sight.
breaking to pieces, shattered and torn,
trying to wake the heart that’s worn.

your hands stayed cold, never reached in,
watched me crumble, let me spin.
i begged, i bent, gave all i had,
left scarred and bruised, broken and sad.

lost in this skin that isn’t mine,
bleeding in silence, dying inside.
i’m cracked and torn, can’t hold it in,
broken and waiting, can you let me in?

10/07/25

Tequilla Jul 14

run 2

i feel so small, a fading spark.
i miss your voice that lit the dark.
your eyes, they flickered, wouldn’t stay,
always running, pulled away.

i know that urge, that quiet flight,
to dodge the mirror, dodge the light.
i’ve run from names i used to wear,
from thoughts that choke the silent air.

this body feels like borrowed skin,
a shell i never settled in.
but then, your laugh, a fleeting flame,
when i said something dumb, by name.

you smiled, and for a breath or two,
i almost felt like someone new.
your gaze would trace me, soft and slow,
like blinking once would let me go.

you never touched, you held your breath,
like love itself might summon death.
or worse, that reaching out for me
would turn a ghost to memory.

we lived in almosts, nearly whole,
a half-made bed, a tangled soul.
almost loving, never quite,
daydreams dying every night.

and maybe you just stayed so still,
afraid to fall, afraid to feel.
but i have shattered, piece by piece
you missed the cracks, you missed the crease.

you weren’t looking. not enough.
you called it love, but called my bluff.
now i’m the echo, fading, done.
still standing here.
still on the run.

Ironic
09/07/25

Tequilla Jul 14

run

i feel so small.
i miss your voice.
your eyes.
how they never stayed
always running.

i know the feeling.
i’ve run too
from the sound of my name,
from my thoughts
when the room gets quiet.
from the way my body
feels like a costume i never chose.

but then your laugh.
when i say something stupid
just to hear it.
like maybe if you smile,
i'll stay whole
for another hour.

your eyes traced me.
slow.
like i’d disappear
if you blinked.
like touching me
would crack the illusion.
or worse
make it true.

we live in almosts.
almost touching.
almost loving.
almost real.

and maybe
you’re waiting for me to fall apart
so you won’t have to.

but i already did.
you just didn’t see it.
you weren’t looking.

09/07/25

Tequilla Jun 9

“The Last First”

Every word I say
 already belongs to the past.
Every sentence ends before I’m ready,
 just like us.

They say every beginning has an end— 
but not every end was given a start. 
Like love,  which crept in silent
 the moment loneliness collapsed.

Love met my solitude and said, 
“You’ve waited long enough.”
 but love never promised forever. 
You didn’t either.
 I’m not ready to turn the page
 if you're not written in the next.

The world stands still for you— pauses in awe. 
Even time stares. 
Yet you keep moving, 
and I stay frozen— 
still stuck
 in the moment you left.

Are you real?
 Was your love real? 
Were we?
 I question the truth of you, 
the truth of us. 
The future fades, 
but your face lingers in the dark.

I ask and ask 
but all I do
 is think of you.

We all die in the end. 
Some die with joy, 
others with silence. 
I will die with sorrow
 because my hands won’t be in yours.

For those who break,  all that's left is breath. 
For those who wait, only pain.

Time stops—you move.
 Time moves—I don’t.

When you walk away, 
I ask if you ever truly loved.
 When I stop chasing,
 you wonder if I ever truly stayed.

The final moment is always the first. 
The first touch, the last ache.
 For your dream, I am parched.
 For your voice, I starve.

With you,
 I feel like less than whole—a soul missing its mirror. 
But without you, there is no half. 
There is only  nothing.

After four years and countless turns of time, I’m still wildly, quietly, endlessly in love with the same man.
And if years are poems, then every line still rhymes with him.

#love #crush #yearning

Tequilla Apr 28

snakebite

here i go, another line,
half in love, half in decline.

art is love, and love is cruel,
it dresses kings, it breaks the fool.

seventeen and feeling torn,
too much love for being born.
ghosts have touched me, not the real,
i know the want, but not the feel.

i watch him laugh across the room,
i breathe him in, i taste the gloom.
some days he talks, most days he won’t,
some days i care, some days i don't.

he laughs with girls, he taps their hands,
he pulls them close, he understands.
no second thoughts, no shift, no scare,
but when it’s me, he won't go there.

like i'm too sharp, too much, too real,
too wrong to touch, too big to feel.
like one brush of my haunted skin
could **** the soft, sweet life from him.

maybe he’s right.
maybe i bite.