Surviving Heartbreak

The Emptiness Always Finds Its Way Back

I am tired of waiting,
tired of hoping,
tired of trying to be enough
for men who only see me in pieces.

They call me beautiful,
whisper that I'm something worth wanting,
but never something worth staying for.
I am fuckable,
but not unforgettable.
Good enough to touch,
but never enough to change for.

And maybe that's what hurts the most—
knowing that I could set myself on fire,
and they would only admire the glow,
never reach out, never stay to keep me warm.

I just want to feel something, anything.
Even if it's fleeting.
Even if it's borrowed.
Even if it leaves me emptier than before.

Because the loneliness is heavy,
and I have carried it for too long.
But no matter how many hands trace my skin,
no matter how many lips press against mine,
the emptiness always finds its way back.

And I don't know how to make it stop.
I don't know how to fill it
without losing myself in the process.

But I do know this—
I am not asking for too much.
I am not too much.
And one day, someone will see me,
all of me,
and they won't hesitate.

Until then, I will hold onto the love
I keep trying to give away.
Because it is mine.
And I am not empty.

I am just waiting for someone
who knows how to stay.

—MistakenGenius