I wore apathy like armor
but cracked every time you looked at me
like I was worth being seen.
Even now I blamed timing.
As if clocks are crueler than my own hesitation.
As if love didnāt stand right in front of me
and wait with open hands
as mine stayed tucked in pockets.
I convinced myself I was unworthy
before anyone else had the chance to.
I set fire to every almost
just to say āsee, it was never going to lastā
like that made it less my fault.
Still, I write this like it mattersā
like this confession changes anything.
But all it does
is remind me
that I had everything
and still chose nothing.
Just a short venting poem about my personal frustration with how I handle things.
