I learned that some doors only opened after I had already become the key
And by the time they welcomed me inside there was never enough of me left to notice I had never really entered at all
Every mirror became a witness, every glance a verdict, every silence another bill I paid with borrowed skin
Because it is easier to undress than it is to unravel and people rarely ask which one hurts more
They said I was beautiful... and I mistook that for irreplaceable
They held my body so tightly that I never noticed my soul had slipped quietly through their fingers
Or perhaps I was the one who let go first
How strange that I could memorize every curve of my reflection yet remain a stranger to the person standing inside it
I knew exactly how to be consumed but never how to be kept
I became fluent in disappearing while still taking up space
Leaving pieces of myself in rooms that never remembered my name
Wondering why I felt so empty when everyone insisted I had so much to give
Now I cannot tell whether I built my own altar
Or simply mistook the butchers table for something sacred
But either way I was taught that love should leave marks
And only later discovered they were fingerprints not promises
So when someone says they want all of me I no longer wonder how much I must surrender
I wonder whether for the first time they mean everything that cannot be touched.