What am I supposed to do
when my feelings outweigh every truth I know?
When my heart drags chains through common sense,
pulling me back toward people
who would never bleed the same for me.
I spent so long learning how to care for you
that I forgot how to carry myself.
Set myself aside like an old coat at the door,
useful only when the weather turned cold.
Now I wander through crowded rooms
with hands that still feel empty.
And I wonder,
why loneliness follows me
even when I keep others close enough to hear me breathe.
Why my soul keeps choosing people
who only visit when they need shelter.
Why I cling to echoes
that will never answer back.
The worst part is
I know the questions that matter.
I know the answers too.
But truth is a language
nobody seems to want spoken aloud.
So people soften reality,
bend words into something survivable,
pretend distance is healing,
pretend forgetting is strength.
And maybe lying really is easier,
because honesty means admitting
some things never loved us
the way we loved them.