Why do I let these thoughts flood my mind,
rising like a tide, relentless and all consuming,
Drowning in the possibility that everything i worked for will eventually unravel at the very seams
and then there’s the never quite landing where I intended - part
when I grip his arm—something feels foreign
a flicker of doubt creeping in.
But then he pulls me back, anchors me,
and I realize—I’m letting them dictate my every thought,
twisting my mind into a shape that isn’t mine.
Or maybe it is.
Maybe it’s not them at all.
Maybe the unrest is stitched into my own skin,
woven into the fabric of my being.
Because the truth is, I am dissatisfied.
With work, with routine—maybe even with life itself.
Yet him and I - we drift through dreams and realities,
balancing on the knife’s edge of growth and commitment,
learning to embrace the shadow selves we kept locked away
Still, I see parts of myself I wish weren’t there—
shallow, fickle parts.
If it isn’t beautiful, does it even matter?
If it doesn’t gleam, is it worth anything at all?
the world outside our walls doesn’t feel safe
The world is unkind to love like ours
To be clear, we are safe.
But the world watches, it whispers
And I hear every damn word
But truly, my enemy is my ego.
Clinging to scraps of endorsement
A beast that feeds on validation,
It begs—stand behind me, hold me up
My ego tells me our years together should matter more
that longevity should be a badge of honor.
It aches for the girl who was once second best
It pleads—be seen, be liked
It is shameful, but here I am
But I have never felt so fragile,
so uncertain of myself, so rattled
Like a stepped on thing
And yet, he cradles my soul in wings so vast,
so full of life, so full of love
The kind of love we share is the kind of love I wish I saw growing up
He is a divine counterpart
My divine counterpart
Still, these souls haunt me, their presence lingering,
though I know—deep down—it is not them.
Not their judgments or their proclamations
It is my ego, whispering, begging, clawing.
And I must kill her.
I indulge in substances I once shied away from
And I believe those parts of me have already surrendered
The rope has been hung
What’s left if not my fragile ego?
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