I fall for it every time.
Not the lie,
but the softness wrapped around it.
The way your voice turns gentle
when you want something from me.
The way your eyes hold mine
just long enough to make me believe
there is something sacred there.
And I leap.
God, I leap every single time.
Across sleepless nights,
across wounds still open,
across every warning sign I stitched together
trying to protect myself from you.
You call, and suddenly distance means nothing.
You ask, and I would tear pieces from myself
just to place them in your hands
like offerings at an altar
that has never once worshipped me back.
I drown willingly.
Sink beneath you without hesitation
if it means sharing even a moment
of the same air,
the same laugh,
the same temporary warmth
you give so effortlessly
and take back just as easily.
But the ending never changes.
When the silence returns,
when your attention drifts elsewhere,
when your eyes stop searching for mine,
I am left standing alone
holding feelings too heavy for one person to carry.
Because every “us”
only ever lived inside me.