am i broken

or just misplaced

why do ordinary conversations

feel like something i am watching

instead of living

why does a simple interaction

linger like an unfinished letter

i replay everything

your tone

my pause

the way the air shifted

i rewind

why did i say that

why didn’t i say more

did i give too much

did i not give enough

my days are filled with mapping

possible endings

imaginary exits

versions of myself

who handled it better

in my mind

i am soft

i love without condition

without fear

without calculation

in my mind

i hold hands easily

laugh freely

exist lightly

but in reality

to reach for someone

costs me

it drains something ancient

like i am pulling warmth

from a place already cold

every word feels measured

every smile rehearsed

and when it is over

i am left alone

with the echo

wondering if i was too much

or not enough

and sometimes

what hurts the most

is not rejection

it is the distance between

who i am inside

and who i manage to be outside

it feels like longing

for a version of myself

i have not yet met

a nostalgia

for a life

where loving does not exhaust me

where being present

does not feel like survival

i am tired

tired of carrying my own mind

tired of missing something

i cannot even name

will there be someone

patient enough

to sit with my silences

to understand that my hesitation

is full of feeling

that my overthinking

is just fear of losing

that my anxiety

is love

with nowhere safe to land

i do not just want someone

i want someone

who feels like home

and sometimes

i ache

for that home

as if i have already known it

and lost it

even though

i have never had it