I knew before I answered You weren’t calling to ask how I’d been There was already weight in your breathing Already something collapsing again And I listened Of course I listened While staring at cold coffee by the sink Thinking how strange it is That some people only remember you When they’re beginning to drown But tonight it just sounded heavy Like being handed another box I don’t have room to carry And now I hate myself For even thinking that I don’t want to be your silver lining anymore I’m tired in places sleep can’t fix Everybody leaves pieces of themselves here Then walks away lighter While I stay behind sorting through it all I know people are hurting I know life breaks things quietly I know loneliness makes strangers reach For whatever warmth they can find So why does compassion feel so much like erosion sometimes? Why do I feel guilty For wanting one evening Where nobody needs saving? There’s mascara on my sleeve And tissues all over the basement floor I keep talking to myself Like maybe I’ll finally say the right thing Maybe stronger people know how to stop this Maybe kinder people don’t ask these questions at all Maybe I’m just tired I don’t want to be your silver lining anymore Not tonight Not while my own sky looks like this I’m so tired of stitching wounds closed With hands nobody notices are bleeding I wish caring less came naturally to me I really do Tomorrow I’ll probably answer again Probably say “It’s okay” Probably mean it halfway Because I know what it feels like To need somebody And hear silence instead So maybe this sadness Is just the cost of staying soft In a world that rewards distance I don’t want to be your silver lining anymore But I don’t know how to stop being who I am And maybe that’s the real ache underneath all this Not that people need too much Just that I still care enough to let them
