In my eyes,
there is no consistency,
not yet.
Just flashes of warmth
followed by shadows
I can’t outrun.
They say things so tender
my chest loosens,
my heart lifts,
and for a moment I swear
they’re learning how to fill me.
But then the actions miss the mark,
fall short,
fall quiet...
and I’m left split in two,
is this a pattern,
or just human error?
In my eyes, it feels like fire and frost,
push and pull,
a rhythm I can’t read.
I keep asking myself
if I’m imagining it,
stretching ghosts into monsters,
fear into prophecy.
God, I hope I’m imagining it.
But where is their hand
to shake the demons off me?
Where is the steady grip
that once lifted me high enough
my heart remembered how to beat?
Instead they ask
if someone else is there for me,
as if I’m looking elsewhere
when all I want is them.
Their voice, their reach,
their arms pulling me back
from my own mind.
And in my eyes,
I see it.
I’m too much.
Too loud in my longing,
too raw in my honesty,
too drenched in wanting to be held.
I wonder if they see it too.
I wonder if they look into these eyes,
red rimmed, shimmering, cracking...
and realize I’m drowning.
And if they do see,
and still do nothing…
Is that my sign?
Is that my answer?
In my eyes, everything hurts,
the truth,
the fear of being wrong,
the fear of being right.
Both burn so deeply
I want to close my eyes
just to escape
what they show me.
But even with them shut,
I still feel it.
I’m looking for certainty
in someone
who isn’t ready
to see me clearly.