"FEAR OF GETTING ATTACHED"

I don't fall.

I hover.

One hand on the edge,

ready to let go before I'm dropped.

Attachment is a loaded gun.

And I'm tired of being the target.

So I keep people at arm's length

and call it standards.

Keep them in the dark

and call it a mystery.

Keep them waiting

and call it self-respect.

I memorize exits.

I name the ways this will end

before it even starts.

I leave my heart in the doorway!

One foot in, one foot out. "Just in case"

Saying "we'll see" when I mean "please stay".

So I smile and show up

But I never stay long enough to be needed.

Never soft enough to be missed.

Because if you knew how deep this goes,

You could drown me.

And I'm not sure I'd survive coming up for air.

But the truth is,

I want to be held without flinching.

To stay without counting the seconds till it ends.

I want to be loved without a backup plan,

without rehearsing my goodbye.

I'm not weak

I'm just scared that if I land,

there will be no ground to catch me.

So I hover.

Not because I don't feel it —

but because I feel it too much🥺🥀.