Poetry by Anonymous (New York)

He wanted in

not into me,

but into everything that surrounded me.

The orbit, the heat,

the way my name unlocked doors

he dreamed of walking through.

He mirrored my laugh

until it felt like theft.

Studied my friends

like blueprints for belonging.

Made a home inside my circle

and locked me out.

Still,

I let him use me.

Still,

I embraced him like I didn’t know better.

Like he didn’t flinch

every time I shined too loud.

He made me feel small

and then blamed me

for noticing.

I wanted to hate him,

to scrape him off like dead skin,

but something about the way we burned

the closeness,

the whispers,

the desperate reaching

made me stay.

I hated how I wanted him.

Wanted the parts of him

that were stolen from me.

The way he wore my light

like a costume

and convinced the world it was his.

So I smile now,

soft and hollow,

letting him think he’s won.

Not for him

for me.

Because pretending is easier

than admitting

I gave myself away

to someone who only ever

wanted the illusion.