Behind the Metaphors

You wouldn’t know it,

but I lie awake at night

negotiating with silence,

trying to convince it

that I’m not as lonely as I feel.

You wouldn’t know it,

but change terrifies me;

the way storms do when they roll in

without warning

and rearrange everything I thought was mine.

I smile like I’ve made peace with it all,

but I haven’t.

I just got good at holding the pieces

without letting them cut anyone else.

You wouldn’t know it,

but I’m scared I’ll never be chosen;

That I’ll forever be the side character

in everyone else’s love story.

I laugh loud,

but sometimes it’s to drown out

the echo of what I never said,

the parts of me that ache

for something more

than temporary comfort.

You wouldn’t know it,

but I’m terrified

of living a life

that looks full from the outside

but feels like an echo inside.

Of dying

with journals full of almosts,

hearts I never touched,

and dreams I folded too neatly

to ever chase.

You wouldn’t know it,

but sadness has seasons too,

and some of mine

are still stuck in winter.

I’m scared of the frost

that lingers even in sunlight,

scared of the way grief

dresses itself in routine.

But you wouldn’t know.

Because I’ve learned to speak in metaphors,

to wrap my fears in poetry

and call them art.

You wouldn’t know it,

but I am soft.

And I am scared.

And I am still here-

trying.