I should be better.  

I should be the man who reaches for your hand without hesitation,  
who speaks in soft tones and knows the right words,  
who doesn’t flinch when love is placed before him  
like a gift he has never deserved.  

But I am not.  

I am sharp edges and broken glass,  
a locked door with no key,  
a storm that does not know how to do anything  
but destroy what it touches.  

I love you more than life,  
but my love comes out wrong.  
It comes out in silence when you need words,  
in words when you need silence,  
in distance when you need closeness,  
in fire when you need warmth.  

I don’t know how to be gentle.  
I don’t know how to hold something precious  
without cracking it in my hands.  

You tell me I am cruel.  
That I make you feel small.  
That loving me is a wound that never quite heals.  

I want to say I don’t mean it,  
but what does that matter?  
A blade doesn’t have to mean to cut  
to make you bleed.  

And you are bleeding.  

Because of me.  

Because I don’t know how to let myself be loved  
without turning it into something ugly.  
Because I don’t know how to take your kindness  
without twisting it into something sharp  
and throwing it back at you.  

Because I am trying to ruin this before you realize  
I am already ruined.  

And yet—  
I want you to stay.  

I want you to choose me  
even as I make you hate me.  
I want you to love me  
even as I give you nothing to hold onto.  

I want you to see through the wreckage  
and find something worth saving.  

But I know better.  

I know you will leave.  
I know I will let you.  
I know I will watch you walk away  
and say nothing,  
do nothing,  
pretend it does not split me open from the inside.  

And when they ask me what happened,  
I will say—  

"I loved her."

And they will not understand  
why that was never enough.

I just want to love you again. I trace your name in my sighs through the night, a melody lost to time, hushed by regret, yet I still hum it through the pain. And I always will. The crisp air still smells like yesterday, carrying echoes of laughter clasped between our locked hands. Like the promises we swore would never break, only misplaced, leaving space where we once stood together. I don’t long for time to rewind; I want to love you now, with the lessons our mistakes have taught me. I hate these shackles on our hearts, the restraints that make even the smallest things feel fragile. I’ve fallen for you, and I fall again each time I try to stay away. I love it all, the good, the bad, even the fights that teach us something new. Even in our lowest moments, I still search for you. I can’t be just friends with you. I’m sorry, but I can’t compartmentalize this love. I don’t care about perfection; I care about presence, about loving you fully, no matter the effort it takes. And I always will, even if I’m not allowed to. From the sound of your voice to the hue of your presence, to every piece of you, I will always love you.

I wanted to tell you how sorry I was....
that I had to find you in this cruel world and break your heart.
all I want is to go back to the start
but nobody ever told me it would be this hard.
the words 'I love you' clogged my throat making it impossible for me to breath.
it is such a shame we had to part
but it was all because of my heart.
I wish we never said hello on that day not so long ago.
you really were lovely
you told me all your secrets
but we were running in circles forgetting who we really are.
if I could go back to the start.... I never would have broken your heart.

I have never been one to know my worth—
always measuring myself in fractions,
always finding less than whole.
But meeting you took “less”
and carved it down to nothing.

You made me feel unlovable,
a ghost in the room, a shadow at your feet.
Time and time again, you chose everyone else,
and time and time again,
I let you.
I let you because I thought I deserved nothing more.

You kept me on your own timeline,
offering crumbs, never a feast,
and I swallowed every excuse
because I thought even scraps
were something close to love.

“You shouldn’t have told her—
you probably ruined her night.”
But no, she didn’t.
You did.
You ruined my nights, my hope, my peace,
but I let you, didn’t I?
I let you every time I forgave,
every time I made excuses,
every time I prayed you’d change
only to watch you stay exactly the same.

And then—just when I swore
I could take no more—
you held my hand.
For the first time.
For the first time, your skin met mine,
and I let myself believe.

I lay beside you,
my fingers mapping the ridges of your spine,
my lips pressing against your cheek,
the scent of sunscreen tangled in your hair.
I finally heard it from your own mouth,
not from whispers, not from hopeful hearts
“I like you.”
“If things were easier, I’d pursue you.”
And I believed you.

But a week is all it took
for you to pretend none of it happened.
The slow replies.
The canceled plans.
The empty air where effort should have been.
Before, I would have smiled, said it was fine,
but now that I have felt your skin—
it is not fine.
It will never be fine again.

I told myself I wouldn’t cry over a man.
I made myself busy.
I swallowed the sadness,
tried to turn it to anger,
but anger was never strong enough
to silence the truth.

I did not weep for you.
I wept for myself.
For the girl who lost her respect,
who let herself be made so small
she forgot how to stand.

But I am standing now.
And I am not unlovable.
I deserve more than the empty space you left behind.
I would have given you the world—
and you wouldn’t have even given me dinner.

No more.
No more waiting.
No more hoping.
No more settling for less than what I deserve.
I am learning my worth.
And this time, I will not forget it.

Lately, I’ve seen a quote circling—
“I hope you get everything you wanted,
and I hope I hear nothing about it.”
People wear it like a badge, sing it like a creed,
as if silence is strength, as if distance is healing.

But I have to disagree.

I do hope you get everything you want—
but I also hope that everything you want is me.

Another quote lingers in my mind—
“Please, God, don’t let me miss him in a wedding dress.”
That, I can stand by.
I hope I am your everything,
but if I never become that,
then let me feel the weight of it,
let me grieve what I must—
and then, let me go.
Let me find the one who sees me as I see them,
who meets me in the place where love is chosen, not just felt.

But don’t let me be the last to know.

I don’t want to learn from whispers,
or a post I wasn’t meant to see.
Give me the dignity of knowing,
the respect of truth from your own lips.

So I rewrite the quote in my own way—
“I hope you get everything you wanted,
and I hope I’m the first to hear of it.”

Because the thought of finding out
that my everything has found their everything elsewhere
through a screen—
that, to me, is what’s devastating.

Maybe I think differently than most.
Maybe I am not your everything.
But I hope I hear of everything.

What were you thinking about
The night before?

Did you hold me as we slept
To memorized the touch?

Did you look at me
To remember my features?

When you said goodnight
Was that a prelude to goodbye?

Was the night before
The last time you loved me?

What were you thinking about
As you kissed me goodnight?

Was that kiss
The last we'd ever shared?

Were you thinking about
Our final night together?

Did you feel my heartbeat
Felt it whole before breaking it?

The night before
Were you mine?

The night before
Did you wish it was different?

Did you look at the clock
To count the last hours of us?

Did you feel asleep
Still thinking of me?

What were you thinking of
The night before?

What were you thinking of
Before you whispered "no more"?

Did you wait all night
For the sight of dawn?

Did you dream instead
That it would never end?

What were you thinking of
As you saw my resting eyes?

What were you thinking of
As you cried for the last time?

The night before
You said goodbye

Every beautiful surface has a terrible depth. - unknown


The mysterious formation
of pristine turquoise glaciers
in my heart.
Are the monuments of all
my cold goodbyes.
The terrible ache of the chaos of life,
broke off an island of ice
seeking the why.
The tip of the iceberg is
frozen shards of what's left behind.
Sinking voyaging thoughts
from the dark depths of my mind.

Standing there is a beautiful man
who says take my hand.
I will forever be your land.