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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required Tossing and Turning Night does not come gently anymore— it arrives heavy, like a question I refuse to answer. I lie between breaths and truth, caught in the quiet war of what is felt and what is only received. You love me— not in fragments, not in hesitation, but in full, unguarded offering, like open hands that never learned to close. And I… I stand there, holding everything, feeling the weight of gold I never asked for, afraid to drop it, afraid to keep it. There is a kindness in you that makes my silence feel like cruelty. A gentleness that turns my uncertainty into something almost unforgivable. Because how do you wound what has only ever healed you? How do you turn away from a heart that never turned from you? So I stay— not out of love, but out of fear dressed like loyalty. Not out of longing, but out of the trembling thought that leaving you might break something that cannot be mended. And so I toss— between honesty and hesitation, between truth and the comfort of pretending. I turn— away from the mirror of your devotion, away from the echo of a feeling that refuses to grow inside me. You deserve a fire, and I am only a flicker trying not to go out. You deserve certainty, and I am a doorway that never fully opens. Still, you remain— loving me in ways I cannot return, waiting in spaces I cannot fill. And I, restless in borrowed warmth, keep rearranging my conscience like sheets that will not settle. Morning always comes, but it brings no answers— only the same quiet ache, the same unspoken truth: that love, when not returned, becomes a place where both hearts slowly lose their way. NB: Written for a friend to a friend
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