Funny, isn't it?
I was always the overthinker,
the one who needed control,
who'd chart out every step
so helplessness wouldn't catch me.
But maybe it's you
holding the map,
afraid to unfold it,
afraid that letting me get close
means tracing every route
to where it might end.
Maybe you say you need space
not for breathing room,
but because the truth breathes heavy,
crowding each word you don't say.
What if it is love, after all?
What if you're the one
pulling strings so tightly
they might snap
if you admitted this could last?
I thought I was the one who'd cling,
yet here we are, you standing guard,
me with open hands—
waiting for you to let yours fall,
just once,
to let me in.
—MistakenGenius
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Surviving Heartbreak
PoetryA lover girl who got her heart broken one too many times and now ended up writing poetry about it
