I hold you like glass,
terrified of my own hands.
Every word I say
feels like it’s waiting
to fracture into mistakes.

I’ve done this before—
the slow unravel,
the clumsy shatter,
the way love slips
through my fingers
like sand I thought
I was holding tight.

You deserve a lighthouse,
steady, unshaken,
but I feel like
a storm with no shore.

Every day I whisper
you’re better off without me,
but louder still
is the truth I can’t silence:
I don’t know how to stay whole,
and I don’t know if love
can survive someone
who never feels
like enough.