FA+
Shop
Trust
3 months ago
General
You took a sip I did not pour, and walked a step beyond my door. You claimed a moment not designed for your free will, but only mine. A simple, necessary, clear design. So let me show you what you’ve cost, the line you’ve so casually crossed. This wasn’t just a line in sand, it was the trust I had placed high in demand.
I’ll warn you now that if me being vulnerable makes you uncomfortable, it makes me feel like being myself leaves me unguarded. Ashamed when my feelings are left discarded. This is my truth, this is where my story started. I hope it helps you understand why I seem half-hearted.
The cage I built has no locked door, you simply show that you love me less, and not more. Shown to me in my weary eye, I see you have not yet learned to say goodbye. You now learn the weight of every breath of my life is mine to grant, and mine to death.
This is not wrath, it’s dedication. This is not love, it’s suffocation, wearing a mask of sacrifice, and constantly making up for the price.
This bitter seed, this dark, obsessive hum, of what was said, and what I have become. "If only you were kinder, understood," the accusations, understood as, "Your demands are selfish, cold, and stark," Quiet as a shot in the dark.
Now replay starts, a broken seatbelt, the how, the why, the sting felt. A whispered echo, cold and deep, stealing moments from your sleep. This is the loop, the mind's dark grind, the breach of trust that can't unwind.
Then in your soft voice, a sorrowed sigh, a wounded bird beneath my eye. "After all we’ve done together?" you mourn, your own fragile mask, expertly worn. You twist the thread, then make it mine, My fault for drawing that clear line.
What you may not know is I already have threads to bare. Names unspoken made me more self-aware. This thread sowed sorrows, no proud cape to wear. Leaving little room for healing. And so, these wounds, they keep me reeling, unstitched, exposed, and unappealing.
No matter the tears, or time, they tend to not fester in the open, but deep inside.
Rarely these wounds come out into the light, but when they do they aren’t always neatly scarred, instead raw with insight.
Those who leave quietly, warrant love and grief. Those who lie, steal comfort and belief. Leaving wounds forever wide, no skin can form, no closing seam can hide. I often curse the strength that lives in me. This fierce obsession is one I cannot flee, burning both day and night. Won’t be unspoken forever, this is my right.
A dense chaos, dealt in this guilt you weave, making me question what I believe. You paint yourself the one undone, and show my stand as the cruelest one. "You're changing, cold," the soft critique, "so distant now, you never speak." Each word a hook, a subtle chain, to pull me back down, forcing me against my internal hurricane.
In these twin sorrows, woven through my bodies core, broken trust leaves me bleeding evermore. No suture to entwine, just raw, exposed, and exquisitely mine. A constant ache, that alone I cannot shake.
For memory clings to echoes, soft and low, of paths we walked, and where we'll never go. A betrayal's sting refuses to forget, the moment eyes of fondness coldly met. Two kinds of loss, a heavy, double weight, hiding my heart behind an iron gate.
I learn to walk on, love as my vessel, my emotions deep, still surrounded by the unheard secrets I keep. Those I lost in silence, and to lies, today reflect starkly in my exhausted eyes. These open wounds that cover my soul, paint a jagged map, seeming beyond all my control. Carrying the absence of those I love, nearly driven insane, as my life was reshaped by sorrow, and by pain.
Beyond all this pain though as I once said, a light still fights as I lay here in bed, still flickering in the dark. I ask myself now “How could they trust in such a hidden spark?” The answers I still seek, are up at the peak, blocked out by fog, I find myself in fear, where my thoughts are unclear.
For when my trust is taken, this worsens my state, I tend to care mostly about the ones that show hate. You now must know you feed the monsters in my head, with every word you've left unsaid, the boundaries that you broke, and the oppressive guilt you've spoke.
Trust is most important when an inner critic is loud, a gentle touch or kind gesture can leave someone feeling proud. In a world full of so much self-doubt and unease, showing love can heal this disease. So I ask that when a boundary is set, it is not to harm others, but a safe space to soundly protect.
I will never be perfect, no, the scars will always show. I adapt to a wiser version of me, where when life gets hard, I can let someone know. Trust can refreshen, though refused if shown as toxic obsession. Instead discerning enough to earn one's keep, in place of steady rhythm, where I can peacefully sleep. The boundaries I place will continue to stand, not as a prison wall, but as a second shelter, ready and at hand. To me, a sacred place, where my heart can mend, and where those I trust, I can depend.
I’ll warn you now that if me being vulnerable makes you uncomfortable, it makes me feel like being myself leaves me unguarded. Ashamed when my feelings are left discarded. This is my truth, this is where my story started. I hope it helps you understand why I seem half-hearted.
The cage I built has no locked door, you simply show that you love me less, and not more. Shown to me in my weary eye, I see you have not yet learned to say goodbye. You now learn the weight of every breath of my life is mine to grant, and mine to death.
This is not wrath, it’s dedication. This is not love, it’s suffocation, wearing a mask of sacrifice, and constantly making up for the price.
This bitter seed, this dark, obsessive hum, of what was said, and what I have become. "If only you were kinder, understood," the accusations, understood as, "Your demands are selfish, cold, and stark," Quiet as a shot in the dark.
Now replay starts, a broken seatbelt, the how, the why, the sting felt. A whispered echo, cold and deep, stealing moments from your sleep. This is the loop, the mind's dark grind, the breach of trust that can't unwind.
Then in your soft voice, a sorrowed sigh, a wounded bird beneath my eye. "After all we’ve done together?" you mourn, your own fragile mask, expertly worn. You twist the thread, then make it mine, My fault for drawing that clear line.
What you may not know is I already have threads to bare. Names unspoken made me more self-aware. This thread sowed sorrows, no proud cape to wear. Leaving little room for healing. And so, these wounds, they keep me reeling, unstitched, exposed, and unappealing.
No matter the tears, or time, they tend to not fester in the open, but deep inside.
Rarely these wounds come out into the light, but when they do they aren’t always neatly scarred, instead raw with insight.
Those who leave quietly, warrant love and grief. Those who lie, steal comfort and belief. Leaving wounds forever wide, no skin can form, no closing seam can hide. I often curse the strength that lives in me. This fierce obsession is one I cannot flee, burning both day and night. Won’t be unspoken forever, this is my right.
A dense chaos, dealt in this guilt you weave, making me question what I believe. You paint yourself the one undone, and show my stand as the cruelest one. "You're changing, cold," the soft critique, "so distant now, you never speak." Each word a hook, a subtle chain, to pull me back down, forcing me against my internal hurricane.
In these twin sorrows, woven through my bodies core, broken trust leaves me bleeding evermore. No suture to entwine, just raw, exposed, and exquisitely mine. A constant ache, that alone I cannot shake.
For memory clings to echoes, soft and low, of paths we walked, and where we'll never go. A betrayal's sting refuses to forget, the moment eyes of fondness coldly met. Two kinds of loss, a heavy, double weight, hiding my heart behind an iron gate.
I learn to walk on, love as my vessel, my emotions deep, still surrounded by the unheard secrets I keep. Those I lost in silence, and to lies, today reflect starkly in my exhausted eyes. These open wounds that cover my soul, paint a jagged map, seeming beyond all my control. Carrying the absence of those I love, nearly driven insane, as my life was reshaped by sorrow, and by pain.
Beyond all this pain though as I once said, a light still fights as I lay here in bed, still flickering in the dark. I ask myself now “How could they trust in such a hidden spark?” The answers I still seek, are up at the peak, blocked out by fog, I find myself in fear, where my thoughts are unclear.
For when my trust is taken, this worsens my state, I tend to care mostly about the ones that show hate. You now must know you feed the monsters in my head, with every word you've left unsaid, the boundaries that you broke, and the oppressive guilt you've spoke.
Trust is most important when an inner critic is loud, a gentle touch or kind gesture can leave someone feeling proud. In a world full of so much self-doubt and unease, showing love can heal this disease. So I ask that when a boundary is set, it is not to harm others, but a safe space to soundly protect.
I will never be perfect, no, the scars will always show. I adapt to a wiser version of me, where when life gets hard, I can let someone know. Trust can refreshen, though refused if shown as toxic obsession. Instead discerning enough to earn one's keep, in place of steady rhythm, where I can peacefully sleep. The boundaries I place will continue to stand, not as a prison wall, but as a second shelter, ready and at hand. To me, a sacred place, where my heart can mend, and where those I trust, I can depend.
