echoes of a thousand yes
pathological people pleaser
i’m good at swallowing what's left of myself. every corner you haven’t filled—space collapses into what you need me to be—a shape-shifter, blurred at the edges, soft as doubt. i say yes to silence, to being the soil beneath your feet, and sometimes i think i’m sinking, but even that is a comfort, isn’t it? better than the sharp stare of no. at the bottom of it, i forget the sound of my own name. it lives now in your eyes, rewritten with every are you sure? and could you just?— as if my mouth is a cupboard where your desires stay warm, as if my spine bends, like light around gravity, into the shapes that make you feel whole. and still, i smile through the crack in my voice, a door you don't know is there. i fill rooms i don't belong in, wearing every face but mine, chasing some peace in the praise that dissolves on my tongue like sugar too long in the rain.
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Lovely.
Whoa!!