TRAPPED IN YOU You sweetened me, sank into my soul, read me like a prophecy I hate this. I hate you. I was there— when you said you needed me, when my world was burning, I made time, carved it from my own bones, and handed it to you like an offering. You swore you'd always be here. No matter what. No matter what the fuck. But here I am, talking to ghosts, watching you spoil the only thing you ever truly loved— your own damn ego. You spoke of effort, as if effort is a word you understand, as if the weight of my waiting isn’t breaking my spine. You wondered if you were enough. Yes, sir. Yes. You are not. I am not too much— you are too little. You ranted, and I listened. I held my tongue, swallowed my needs. You never did the same. You were mean—sharp-edged, careless. I hope your fingers burn, a slow, cruel sting if you ever type other name while ignoring mine. And I hope you tell me, whine to me about the pain, so I can say, good. Was that love? Or just comfort? Did I mistake patienc...