Fragile Hearts
I walk through crowds with winter in my blood,
Each breath a calculation–how to act, how not to break,
The world reads strength in my posture, in the grin I nailed shut,
But none of them see the effort–how much it costs just to fake
Another morning, another nod, another “I’m fine.”
They say, “You’re tough, you’ve been through worse, you’ll make it again,”
But my armor is thin, my hands shake, my thoughts unwind
In private, where the ache is sharp and every lie is a poison to defend.
I rehearse my answers, mask the fractures, keep the panic close,
Fragile hearts are built from leftovers–regret and stubborn hope,
We keep going because the alternative is too dark to propose,
We trade truth for comfort, every secret for a little more rope.
Inside, I am a bruise that never colors the skin,
A need that grows teeth, a voice that wants but doesn’t dare to speak,
I feel like I owe everyone an explanation for the way I’ve been,
But the language of longing is too raw, too bleak.
I want to be worthy, I want to be loved,
But every time I reach out, the world answers with doubt,
I collect rejections like pennies, each one heavy enough
To keep me from trying, to keep the better parts of me shut out.
They only see the topsoil, never the roots,
Never the night sweats, the lost hours, the loneliness eating my calm,
They see my smile–awkward, forced, absolute–
But they never see the questions that coil in my palm:
What if they knew how close I am to quitting?
What if they saw the terror in my quiet,
How quick I am to turn self-pity into quitting,
How even their kindness can feel like a riot
In the echo chamber of my mind?
I’m scared to let them see the mess,
Scared that truth is something they can’t bear to find,
Afraid my pain will only leave me friendless,
Alone with all the shit I never say.
I’m holding on to the scraps of what I wanted–
Love that didn’t feel like punishment,
Hope that didn’t feel like surrender,
A future that didn’t feel haunted,
But most days, all I have left is a splintered intent:
To keep moving, keep breathing, keep hoping that maybe
The scream inside will fade, or maybe someone will see me
For who I am beneath the masks,
For the kid still shivering behind grown-up tasks,
For the heart that breaks with every careless word.
Now, I stand before the life I made,
Cataloging losses like family heirlooms,
Wondering if feeling whole is just another trade
I’ll never afford–if worthiness is always assumed
To belong to someone else, someone better,
If love is always rough, if kindness always stings,
If peace is just a letter
That never comes, a promise carried by broken wings.
Fragile hearts can only take so much,
The weight of doubt, the fear of every touch.
I’m numb from needing love that’s never real,
Afraid of what I can’t allow to feel.
I wait for mercy, I wait for trust,
But mostly I wait for the numbness to heal,
For the day I can say I am enough,
For the day I can feel.