The quiet way

I tried to love him

in the quiet way

that doesn’t ask for thanks

or explanations.

but he built walls

out of silence

and shut the door

on the light I kept bringing.

they don’t understand—

the ones who see my fire

as foolishness

and my love

as a waste.

but they don’t feel

how my heart screams

when he turns away.

they don’t hear

the echo of my “please”

in the silence of his choices.

so the anger

rises

and rises

and rises—

until it breaks my hands

against the walls I can't tear down.

sometimes,

I hurt myself

just to feel the ground again—

just to stop

floating in the storm

of wanting

him

to let me in.

—

I love him

still.

and that

is the cruellest thing.