Poison in Pretty Cups

They say love is meant to save you. For me, it only ever came to ruin. The first time I fell was in the glow of youth school hallways and stolen glances. He held my hand like it meant something… then let it go like it never did. Still, I believed. In love. In hope. In fate. Foolish dreams stitched into my heart with trembling hands. The second time, I was older… softer in some places, harder in others. He didn’t break me. He hollowed me. Made me believe love was a poison served in pretty cups. And so I started to question: Was it the first who lied sweetly, or the second who lied better? But no Both were wrong. All of it was wrong. There is no one out there for me. No soul that matches mine. No arms that feel like home. Only illusions draped in warmth, hiding frostbitten truths. I don’t want to be loved anymore. Not if love feels like drowning dressed up as dancing. Not if it leaves me emptier than silence. So now, it’s just me. Not broken. Not waiting. Not needing. Just… surviving. With a smile stitched on like armor, and a heart too wild to cage again. Love? That’s a ghost I no longer chase. And if it ever finds me It’ll have to beg.