I lit the match in hopes that
someone would smell the smoke
and run in, barefoot, through the blaze
just to say “I’m here”

Every bridge I’ve ever crossed
now just ash and ember.
I don’t even look back anymore—
I know the glow by heart.

Friendship, love, kindness—
I’ve tested them like brittle glass,
pressed my fears into every crack
until they shattered and I called it proof.

I begged for permanence
by making people prove they’d stay
through the worst of me
before I ever showed the best.
And they left.
Of course they did.
Even angels get tired of hellfire.

It’s ironic, isn’t it?
To fear being unloved so deeply,
you dig your own void and call it safety.
To crave closeness so much,
you keep pushing,
just to see if they’ll reach back.

I’m alone now,
but not surprised.
Loneliness isn’t quiet—
it hums like guilt in my bones,
a reminder that I built my own exile
brick by brick,
from the ruins of people who once tried.

But God, how I wanted someone
to pass the test.
How I wanted to believe
love didn’t leave when it got hard.
How I wanted to believe
I was worth staying for.