poems i wrote that don't know how to end

The sun from both sides

I kissed you like it meant something. You kissed me like it almost did. And in that almost, I built a world. Your hand in mine, a flicker. a drunk confession of warmth you never meant to keep. I didn’t need forever. I just wanted to be held, like I was real. like the storm in me didn’t scare you. You looked at me like I was the sun and still reached for someone else’s shadow. And I told myself it was fine. That I was too much, too intense, too honest in a world that thrives on half-versions. You let go. So easily. like I was background noise between bass and better options. I would’ve shapeshifted for you. Would’ve broken myself into something softer, less haunted, more convenient. Just tell me what to be, and I’ll bleed into the mould. But you never asked. You just walked. And I stayed. Burning alone. still wanting to love and be loved, to feel the sun from both sides not just the scorch of being seen and left.