The worst of me was always this:
I loved with far too open hands,
Like candlelight that can’t resist
Burning itself where darkness stands.

I stitched my care in every seam,
In every late-night call and ride,
Built little homes inside a dream,
For those who never stayed inside.

I learned the language of the ache,
The hollow pause, the thinning thread,
How one small shift in someone’s face
Can leave a thousand thoughts unsaid.

And God, I tried to make things last,
Held crumbling walls with trembling wrists,
Turned every memory to glass,
And cut myself on what I missed.

I was the harbor in the rain,
The steady match against the cold,
Yet somehow love became a chain
Wrapped tight around my ribs to hold.

Because I feel in violent waves,
In sharpened colors, deeper blues,
A careless word becomes a grave,
A silence something I can lose.

And heartbreak is a quiet thief.
It does not shatter, scream, or shout.
It slips beneath your skin like grief
And slowly starts to hollow out.

It lives inside unfinished texts,
In empty seats and changed routines,
In hearing laughter and suspecting
You no longer know what it means.

I think of all the things I gave,
The homework done, dyed strands of red,
The way I stood so fierce and brave
For people who still turned their heads.

And maybe that’s what hurts the most.
Not just the leaving or the lies,
But knowing I became a ghost
Inside the story of their lives.

I wanted loyalty like flame.
The kind that does not drift or dim,
But people change like weather veins,
And I keep mourning every shift.

So now I walk through crowded halls
Like someone carrying the sea,
Holding entire storms inside
While no one notices but me.

My chest is heavy with unsent words,
With every “stay” I never spoke,
And all my thoughts are restless birds
Still circling the smoke.

Yet even now, through all this pain,
Some aching softness still survives,
A wildflower beneath the rain,
Bent low—but stubbornly alive.

Because the saddest hearts, I think,
Are not the cold or careless kind,
But those who love until they sink
And still leave light for those behind.