Traveler in a Suitcase!

I’m touchable, not purchasable.

You can rattle the shelves, tip the glass,

but there’s no barcode on me. 

Not now. Not ever.

I practiced being gentle the way glass learns to shine.

Polished until the fingerprints disappear.

You were kind. 

The kind that doesn’t argue with light.

I was the shadow that kept learning how to move quieter.

When love broke, I did what obedient things do:

I rearranged myself and called it growth.

I named your tears “evidence,” my silence “crime.”

Villain is just the title they give the one who stays too sharp.

I wanted the simple endings.

Your door, your bad days,

the 24-hour shift of being beside you.

I wanted to be the answer that stopped searching.

I am not that girl. 

My edges refused the mold.

I kept loving like a malfunctioning fire alarm.

Too loud, too late, convinced the smoke was my fault.

You kept loving like morning.

True, patient, blameless,

and somehow I still turned the room into sirens.

I will never be your home, despite all the love that you gave it to me. You can't be mine, you'll find your soulmate and I need to accept that you are not part of my life.

But when loving you was the best thing that I had. I can't believe you made my life getting better despite the hard things that we've been through. You never hurt my fragile self and you never made any tears on my cheek. Your love is the loveliest thing that I ever had and I trust you so much.

We were born in different weather.

You were the roof. I was the siren.

You warmed a room. I measured exits.

Call it equal if you like, two wrong answers balancing.

Why do they call it strength

when the body simply refuses shutdown?

Pain pulls the fire alarm;

they file out in orderly lines and call it resilience