i don’t deserve
the soft things.
not love,
not light,
not even quiet.

everything i’ve earned
is a lie,
and everyone knows it.
they just pretend they don’t.

i only deserve
what cuts.
and maybe
i always have.

he tilts his head back when he laughs,
like joy is something he trusts will catch him.
he moves like music.
fluid, unbothered,
as if the world bends a little to let him through.

he talks with his hands,
but listens with his whole heart.
he remembers small things
like my favorite songs,
what makes me happy,
what time i usually start to spiral.

he’s the kind of boy who says “i miss you”
in between ordinary moments,
not afraid to feel with his whole heart,
and doesn’t shy away from mine either.

he works harder than anyone i’ve ever known.
he dresses his achievements
up as failures,
but he knows i see through it.

he’s gentle with people,
even when they’re not gentle with him.
he thinks too much,
but it’s only because he cares too much.

he believes he’s a mess.
i believe he’s a miracle.

and when he tells me he loves me,
it sounds like a promise
he made to himself
long before he met me.

you say you’re too much,
like love is a burden i wasn’t ready to carry.
but i knew what i was doing
when i reached out both those times.

you might unravel some days,
and i won’t flinch.
i won’t fold.
i will gather the thread,
and hold it gently against my heart,
until you can breathe again.

you worry you’re broken,
but i’ve never asked for perfection.
i never needed easy.
i only wanted real.
and you,
in all your aching,
your effort,
your heart that still tries,
you are the most real thing i’ve ever had.

i don’t want someone simpler.
i don’t want someone “less.”
i just want you.

every tangled thought.
every quiet panic.
every soft smile that fights its way through the dark.

i didn’t stumble into this,
i chose you.
on purpose.
and i will choose you again
every time the world asks me to prove it.

you said you’d plant
weeping willows for me,
one in the backyard
of a house we don’t live in yet.
but i can see it.

the wind makes the branches sway
like they already know our names.
like they’ve been waiting
for us to come home.

you say,
“whatever you want,”
and i think
i want everything
as long as you’re in it.

maybe someday
we’ll take that car ride
where we’re not supposed to go,
laughing too loud,
with the windows down,
breaking a few rules,
but not each other.

and maybe
the world won’t always be kind.
but we’ll have that backyard.
those trees.
this promise.
and i’ll know i was loved
by someone who wanted
what i wanted
just because it was mine.

she’s not in broken pieces.
she’s whole.
like she’s never had to tape herself back together just to get through a day.
her stomach is flat,
but all that’s flat about me
is my humor.
when i try to be enough,
and still fall short.

she’s hilarious.
she knows what to say, always.
how to make people laugh,
how to make him feel heard,
how to end a fight
with a kiss or a joke.
me?
i freeze.
i shut down.
i say the wrong thing,
or nothing at all.

she can argue with him
and still make him feel loved.
i argue and feel like
i’ve already lost.
she knows how to be fire and warmth.
i’m just scared of being
too much heat,
or not enough.

she can fill his bed
like it’s made for her.
like she belongs there.
i flinch at the thought,
afraid my body isn’t
something that could hold comfort.
she fits into all the places
i don’t.

he rests his head on her shoulder,
like it’s the only place peace lives.
with me,
he only watches from a distance,
like i’m something delicate he can break,
or something heavy
he’s too tired to carry.
i am.

she is everything i’m not.
she is confidence,
and comfort,
and beauty,
and laughter.
she is ease.
and i?
i’m just a pause between heartbeats.
i’m just trying to be worth
the space i take up.
she is everything.
and i…
i don’t know what i am.

i feel like i’m never enough,
like no matter what i do,
it’s not enough to matter.
but at the same time,
i’m too much.
too intense,
too complicated,
too hard to handle.
it’s like i’m stuck in between,
too much, yet not enough.
and that makes me wonder
if i’m worth it at all.

using my nails,
mimicking the feeling of a knife.
it’s not working.
tell me to stop.

E. your laugh is a melody that i long to hear.
i’ve memorized how it feels to find you in every moment.


S. I missed you more than anyone could know, and I can’t lose you again, don’t leave anymore.
You know me more than anyone else, and nobody knows you know anything.


E. the secret of us is in the way we keep making eye contact when no one’s watching.


S. I can’t stop looking at your beautiful face, did you notice?


E. those golden eyes are sometimes stormy, yet somehow always home.


S. Your hair waves in the breeze, golden strands shining brighter than the sun.


E. with you, i never feel like drowning, it feels like breathing again.


S. I love you so much my heart grew.

i want to pull you close
and never let go.
i want to thread my fingers
through your brown hair,
to hear the melody
of your laughter,
like a favorite song
i never get tired of.

there’s something about you
that makes the world quieter.
makes the air easier to breathe.
like maybe i was always meant
to end up here,
in the warmth of your smile.

i don’t need grand gestures or gifts.
just this.
you.
me.
and the kind of love
that makes ordinary days
feel like music.

i wish it was just
you and me,
alone,
forever.

it’s weird.
it feels like everything i do
is for you to notice.

but somehow,
you notice things
no one else ever has.
things even i
never knew were there.

i still remember the first time.
i was fourteen.
things were starting to break.
friends turning distant,
the girls who used to carry me
now looking the other way.

i grabbed a pair of kids’ scissors.
they were blue.
my cheeks were soaked with tears.
i had never done this before,
but i had heard about it.

i put the blade to my wrist.
it hurt.
a lot.
but i did it again.
and again.

we made up the next day.
everything seemed okay again.
but i didn’t stop.
i liked the sting,
going to school with it still burning.

blue scissors turned into
pocket knives,
kitchen knives,
blades from pencil sharpeners.
i cried when nothing came out.

and later,
when my whole arm went numb,
i didn’t stop.
i think i liked that, too.
i don’t know why.

i still have the blue scissors.

i thought today
maybe things were feeling better.
a little lighter.

but it’s not true.
not anymore.
things are still heavy.

and im
s
  i
   n
    k
     i
      n
       g

who am i if not sad?
i’m scared to find out.

his thoughts twist like rivers,
carving paths no one else would walk.
at first, i only followed out of wonder,
curious how someone could think in stars
instead of steps.

now, i read him like a second language.
not native, but fluent.
and every word still catches the light,
like something holy.

he tells me he doesn’t belong,
but maybe he was never meant
to fit the world.
maybe he was built
to fit me.

i think about the version of us
that never broke.
the one where i stayed,
where i didn’t flinch at forever.

where you kissed me in april,
and we laughed about music,
and nothing hurt
unless it was from smiling too hard.

i love you,
i’m sorry.

my name was just letters
until you said it,
soft, certain,
like it belonged to someone worth holding.
you gave it weight,
a kind of beauty
i never saw alone,
until you spoke it,
and it became yours.