unknown.

to put the pain.

every shelf is full.

every drawer is overflowing.

every corner of me

is carrying something

it was never built to hold.

and i know

everyone is fighting

their own battles.

i know.

but i am standing here

with my hands shaking

from the weight of mine

and nobody seems to notice

i’m disappearing.

not all at once.

just slowly.

quietly.

day after day after day.

i don’t need saving.

i don’t need fixing.

i just need somebody

to look at me

and see

how close to the edge

i’ve been standing

not to open my mouth too wide.

People panic

when they see

what’s inside.

They say

“reach out”

like this thing is touchable.

Like it won’t stain them too.

But I’ve watched it happen.

Watched people lean in

until the dark starts pressing back.

Then suddenly

they’re tired.

Busy.

Quiet.

Eyes full of that look.

The one that says

you are becoming hard to hold.

So now

I disappear privately.

Rot quietly.

Keep my hands to myself

when the nights split open

and everything in me starts begging

for someone

anyone

to sit beside me long enough

to prove I’m not poisonous.

But nobody stays long in places

without light.

And I don’t blame them.