Only Me In The End

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.