Soft Spot For Lost Causes
You bring home strays in human form
the ones who chew through every leash and burn every hand that tries to hold them still
You say you are done falling for leather jackets and sad eyes
yet your heart keeps signing new leases on that same steep hill
There is a shelf in your mind full of rescue stories
starring people who never learned how to stay
You tape their pictures to the wall with notes that say “maybe this time” while everyone else just walks away.
You love the friend who cancels every plan
who promises sober mornings then sends apologies smelling like gin and remorse
You pick them up from bar floors and strangers’ porches
wash them off with bad coffee
trying to steer them off a collision course
You fall for lovers who flinch when you say “forever
” looking like they’re ready to run or be hung
You learn the art of holding out your arms without asking for anything
loving the “almost” and the stupidly young.
You say you are fine with this role
the patron saint of people who crash before the second act
Yet your chest feels heavier each time
like swallowing glass is just a matter of fact
No one writes warning labels on hearts like yours
nobody tells you how hard the impact.
You have a soft spot for lost causes
for the “no way” and “too late” and “they will only drag you down
” You keep betting on long shots
kissing the foreheads of people who are determined to drown
If love is a war
you are the medic crawling under fire toward the idiot who dropped their shield
Soft spot for lost causes, bleeding in the open
refusing to ever leave the field.
Sometimes you see yourself in them
in the shaky hands and runaway eyes and jokes that hide the ache
In the way they ruin every good thing before it leaves
just to feel some twisted control over the break
You remember nights calling from a bathroom stall with makeup running down your head
And the single voice that answered at three in the morning became the rope that pulled you back from the dead.
Maybe that is why you cannot stop
why you keep reaching out even when friends say “enough
don’t start
” Because walking away feels like leaving your own ghost to freeze on the side of the road with a broken heart
So you keep handing out blankets and patience and every spare beat of your heart.
You have a soft spot for lost causes
for the “no way” and “too late” and “they will only drag you down
” You keep betting on long shots
kissing the foreheads of people who are determined to drown
If love is a war
you are the medic crawling under fire toward the idiot who dropped their shield
Soft spot for lost causes, bleeding in the open
refusing to ever leave the field.
One day you look in the mirror and realize the biggest lost cause is staring back with your eyes
The one who stayed up nights stitching everyone else’s wounds while ignoring your own cries
You whisper “fuck, I forgot to save myself” and laugh
because that’s how the story always ends
Then you sit down, bandage your own knees
call a number, and let someone else make amends.
You have a soft spot for lost causes
and tonight that cause is you
All the broken things you hid so you could play the saint just passing through
If you reach out a hand tomorrow, that is fine
that is who you are
Just promise to keep one palm open for yourself when the next disaster walks in from the bar.
Soft spot for lost causes
soft voice saying “I am not giving up yet
” Dark nights, heavy eyes, stubborn as hell
the safest bet.