I thought we were okay.

I was running on autopilot,
that I can admit,
but I know I was here,
present, conscious, 
I know I felt loved even if
I felt it a little bit less. 

I told myself “Sometimes,
it can’t always be 50/50,
sometimes one person needs
to offer the other more when 
their well is running dry.”

So I offered you more. 
I offered to give up my peace 
so that you could have yours
for a while, and apparently,
that wasn’t enough. 

You caught me last night,
deer-in-headlights I sat and
listened to all the things
I’ve heard before, but
will never have to hear again. 

All my life I’ve always been
too much or not enough 
and I’m sick of weighing 
myself against others, just like
you’re sick of feeling 
built up around others, you
want to be free but you
don’t know the line between
freedom and feeling alone.

You’ll learn it soon.

We have done this so many
times now, it doesn’t even hurt
anymore. I am just angry, I am
put out with the inconvenience 
of dealing with a broken heart. 

Last night I went to bed alone
for the first time (again) and 
felt the emptiness of your side
where you’d taken your pillows
and blankets, but left your 
dirty clothes on the mattress. 

An old version of me would have 
snatched them and cuddled with
your scent around me, keeping
you as close as I can for as long
as I can, but this time 
I reached out, and shoved
your t-shirt onto the floor.

I’m done being everyone’s 
second best option.

Today, the three words for my poem prompt were: running, deer-in-headlights, and T-shirt.

_{Image Source: Photo by Fons Heijnsbroek on Unsplash}