I need you to listen to me, I need you to listen to me, I need you listen to me. I’ve said it three times — isn’t that enough?
I just want to be heard, to feel your warm hugs comfort me — not your arguments about my problems. But you turn it into a fight, we both end up hurting.
We fight.
Have you ever noticed how I listen when you share your problems? I give you comfort instead of offering advice or talking as if I knew what you were going through.
You said, I was not reciprocal.
I was not reciprocal.
Maybe I am selfish for craving affection — the kind I never got from my family. And perhaps I didn’t give you enough attention in return.
My unhealed wounds made me hurt you, and you ambushed my pain instead of holding me through it. Hence, you walked away.
You give up.
This love, was intoxicating and familiar — just like my parents’. How ironic that you have shown me love’s true foolishness.
As of now, alone with my shadows, I whisper to the void — when will these wounds mend? The weight is mine to carry, lest my broken edges cut those who come too close.
It is me, I am the problem.
No smoke signals, no lingering embers. Only the silent hush of a fire’s last breath and then I dissolve from love’s grasp, a shadow retreating from every flame that ever tried to warm me.
As you say, I am the blade.
