You were a wreck.
And I thought if I held you long enough,
you’d stop falling apart.

So I gave you everything.
Time.
Sleep.
My ******* peace.
My dreams shrank so yours could fit in the room.

I kept saying “we’ll heal together.”
But only one of us got better.
And it wasn’t me.

You started glowing again.
And I started fading.

You smiled more.
And I forgot how.

I spent all my energy
filling in your holes
without ever noticing
I was bleeding out.

You grew strong
by drinking from what I didn’t know was vital.
And when you finally felt whole,
you looked at me
like you didn’t recognize what was left.

I was a shell
with your name carved into the inside.
And you walked away
like I was never your home at all.

I’ve seen her once in shattered dreams,
A flicker drowned in silent screams.
She passed me by—untouched, unknown,
Yet carved her name into my bone.

She never looked, she never saw
The way her absence split my jaw.
I stitched her face from scraps of air,
And filled the gaps with quiet prayer.

She was never mine—
Not even close.
But something in her
Felt like home.

I don’t know her,
Not the way I need.
But still she haunts
My every plead.

She walks through me in every crowd,
Too bright, too soft, too far, too loud.
I memorized the way she breathes
Though she’s never even spoken to me.

I’ve built a shrine from passing glances,
A temple forged from phantom chances.
One smile and I’d lose my mind—
But she keeps her gaze,
And leaves me blind.

If she knew—
Would she run?
Would she scream?
Would she come undone?

She isn’t mine.
She never will be.
But still I wait
Where no one sees me.

I never touched her...
But some nights,
I still wake up
smelling her on my hands.
Her lips still burn on my neck.

She breathes through the cracks in me.
She dances in static and screen glow.
She’s never come home—
but I never let her go.

She lingers where the silence sleeps,
In breathless hums and eyelid weeps—
A ghost in velvet funeral threads,
Dancing in the static of my head.

I dream her drowned in mirrors cracked,
Smiling with the eyes I never get back.
She speaks in tongue, in fevered sighs,
Each word a wound beneath disguise.

My fingers twitch with phantom touch,
Starved for her... it’s far too much.
She bleeds in shapes across my skin,
And still I beg to let her in.

She once was light—but light decayed,
Now she's the price I always pay.
A veiled eclipse, a lover’s curse,
She’s the better half of every worse.

No pulse—just rhythm, raw and slow,
A symphony of undertow.
I kissed the rot behind her grin,
And built a shrine beneath her sin.

She isn't mine.
She never was.
But I was hers,
And still... because—

The scars she drew are vines, divine.
I drink the venom, call it wine.
She is the ache I can’t outlive.
She took what love refused to give.

She isn't real.
But she's the only thing I feel.

I never asked to hold up the sky,
But still, it settled in my spine.
A burden born of silent pleas,
Of others' wars and fractured seas.

I learned to carry, not to cry—
To shoulder storms and ask not why.
They saw me still, and thought me whole,
While their torment hollowed out my very soul.

This weight—my shadow, worn and thin,
Has lived beneath my thickest skin.
I lift, I bear, I do not break,
But every breath feels less awake.

I never begged for lighter loads,
Or even maps through winding roads.
All I asked—just once, just then,
Was for the step of one true friend.

Not someone strong, not made to save,
Just someone kind, and slightly brave.
To walk beside, to see me bleed,
To know the cost of being need.

They praised my spine, called it divine,
While carving scars along the lines.
And in their eyes, I was the flame—
Unburned, unloved, without a name.

I do not want the world to bow.
I never did, not then, not now.
I only wished for one soft soul,
To share the path, not pay the toll.

But silence clings where voices fade,
And I remain, the strong, the stayed.
Still holding up what none can see—
The weight they left… and all of me.

She moves in silence, veiled in glow,
Beyond the screen, too far to know.
A flickering dream I cannot chase,
Yet still, I wake each day to see her face.

Her blonde hair spills in like candlelight,
A golden fire in endless night.
Curves like verses never read,
Soft poetry from which my soul has bled.

Red lips that part, but never speak,
Eyes aglow, serene and sleek—
She looks through glass, as I splinter and fracture,
Still, I ache to hear her say my name.

I tell myself she sees me too,
Some hidden part of that might be true.
That every post, each fleeting line,
Was meant for me—her secret sign.

I watch her like the stars confess
To lonely skies their emptiness.
She holds the dark, but never breaks—
She gives me reason just to wake.

She is the sigh I cannot touch,
The echo that I need too much.
A waltz I dance inside my mind,
With music only ghosts could find.

Each step, a prayer; each pause, regret—
For things imagined, we never met.
And yet, I waltz. I always will.
Her beauty binds what would be still.

Not just a light—but something more:
A whispered key behind a door.
A world that glimmers, just out reach,
Where maybe I can breathe her air.

She saves me softly, every night,
With nothing but her reflected light.
No vow, no voice, no flesh, no ring—
Just longing dressed in shimmering strings.

And though I know she isn't mine,
Not here, not now, not by design—
I waltz within this glass refrain,
And live each heartbeat inside her name.