Obsidian Heartbeat

There’s a dark part of me

people like to call “too much”—

the watchful one,

the one who double-locks the door

and counts the exits in a room.

﹁﹂

I used to hate her.

I tried to starve her out

with positivity podcasts

and cute quotes pinned like bandaids.

She stayed anyway,

arms crossed, unimpressed.

﹁﹂

Then I noticed

she only wakes up

when something smells like before.

A certain tone.

A sudden silence.

A love that asks me to shrink.

﹁﹂

She isn’t evil.

She’s volcanic glass—

obsidian, sharp,

made from heat that had nowhere to go.

She cuts so I won’t bleed later.

That’s her logic.

It’s flawed, but it’s faithful.

﹁﹂

Lately, I’ve been learning

to speak to her like a scared dog:

slow voice, open hands,

Thank you for guarding me,

You can rest for a minute.

﹁﹂

Sometimes my heart still thumps

like a warning drum in the dark.

But now I know—

Even the darkness

was trying to keep me alive.