I thought hearts were compass-steady.

Point north, follow love.

But I held two

and both pulled me sideways.

Clara is

home, gravity,

the place where my name doesn’t echo back empty.

Jamie is

lightning in a glass,

shattered rules and stolen breath.

I keep waiting for the truth to rise

like oil in water.

But it just sits there,

murky.

~~~

You talk like you’re lost,

but you’re just circling.

This isn’t confusion, Sam.

It’s convenience.

You say I’m home,

but you only knock on the door

when the weather turns.

Love is not

your shelter

when fire dies.

And still, I make space.

I cook. I wait.

I shrink myself

to fit your doubt.

But I’m drawing the exit map

on my palm.

It’s starting to itch.

**~~~**

I don’t do waiting rooms, Sam.

Not anymore.

You’ve got one foot here,

the other pressed deep in her doormat.

It’s cute you think

you haven’t chosen.

You have.

Silence is just

a dressed-up no.

I gave you the hurricane,

offered my real.

And you stood there,

checking the forecast.

**~~~**

You both look at me

like I’m a choice.

Like I’m supposed to fit

into one version of myself.

But I am split,

a fault line,

pulling away from both shores.

And maybe that’s the answer:

not love,

but loneliness

wrapped in too much affection.

**~~~**

Then call it what it is:

fear.

Not love.

I won’t carry your indecision

like a second skin.

**~~~**

Then go.

You and I, Clara.

Let Sam sit in the silence he built

and call it peace.

**~~~**

I never meant,

But “never meant” doesn’t heal anyone.

I watch you both turn,

and something finally breaks.