I let go of my fear of loneliness. I no longer dread solitude. There’s a quiet strength in seclusion. Even if no one else sees it. I expel my urge to fill the silence. Soundlessness feels welcoming to me now. My heart is profoundly hushed. Even if no one learns how to love me. I clear my mind of its exigency. A pause in thought is no crisis to me. I can breathe without speaking. Even if no one else ever understands.

The fire escape I’m sitting on is giving way,  And when I grasp for something to break my fall  There’s only these sounds that scorch my skin. "I tried to love you, but I can’t.”  Why’d I take you to my favorite place  For you to pour this gasoline on the ground?  no quelling this fire now.  “I tried to love you, but I can’t.”  It’s worse than just not being loved, to know  You tried, like that’s a consolation. It’s the smoke  That stings my eyes, obstructing my vision.  “I tried to love you, but I can’t.”  I’m sitting on this collapsing fire escape  While you’re safe on the ground, looking  Up at me, waiting for me to tell you “It’s okay, I understand.”