worldsaway

Please—
don’t leave me like the others have.

My heart is not built
for another goodbye,
not right now,
not when it’s already
cracked in places I pretend
aren’t there.

Tell me what I did.
I will fix it.
I will reshape myself
into something softer,
easier to hold,
harder to abandon.

I can be better—
quieter,
lighter,
less.

Just don’t go.

This silence you’ve given me
echoes too loudly.
It turns into guilt
with no name,
no face—
just a heavy, choking feeling
that I must have ruined something
I can’t even see.

Maybe this is old pain
wearing a new mask,
whispering lies
I’ve learned to believe.
But it feels real—
like I said the wrong thing,
became the wrong person,
again.

I am sorry—
for whatever it was,
for everything it might have been.

I won’t talk so much.
I won’t take up space.
I’ll fold my struggles
into something small and silent,
keep the good parts tucked away too—
just in case they’re too much.

I can just listen.
I can just be what you need.

Please—
don’t leave me
like they did.

Don’t let this turn into
another ending
I didn’t see coming
but somehow
feel responsible for.

Because this—
this spiral,
this sickness in my chest—

it’s what happens
every time
something shifts
even slightly.

And all I can think is:

Please.
Please don’t leave me.