I am Paradoxical

I talk to the dark when I can’t sleep  

because silence is louder than my doubt.  

I build walls with my hands  

and punish myself for the loneliness  

they were meant to prevent.  

I crave the blade and the bandage.  

I run toward fires just to prove  

I can walk out without burning.  

Then I weep over the ash  

like I didn’t strike the match.  

I am the hunger and the fast.  

The locked door and the key  

swallowed by my own throat.  

Tell me I’m healing —  

I’ll show you where I hide the knife.  

I fall in love with the leaving.  

I map every exit in a room  

before I learn your name.  

But I’ll memorize the sound of your breathing  

and call it home. Then I’ll burn the house down  

to see if you’d still find me in the smoke.  

I want to be understood  

without having to explain the rot.  

I want to be held  

without letting anyone touch the bruise.  

I tell people I’m fine  

in the same voice I use to scream  

into pillows at 3am.  

I am terrified of being forgotten  

and exhausted by being known.  

I collect people like evidence  

that I’m not empty,  

then push them away to prove  

I can survive the hollow.  

I am the apology and the offense.  

The trembling hand and the fist.  

The part of you that begs, stay,  

while the rest of me is already  

counting the steps to the door.  

-𝕃ℝ 🖤