Crossfire

Being confused and caught between your heart and head.

My heart is a wildfire,
sparking in every direction,
lighting up things my head keeps
trying to dim.

My head is a fortress,
stone walls, locked gates,
warning signs hung everywhere
that say don’t trust this feeling again.

But my heart never reads signs.
It runs barefoot through the wreckage,
chasing warmth, chasing hope,
chasing moments it swears are meant to be.

My head drags behind,
arms crossed, mumbling
“I told you so,”
even while it secretly wishes
it believed in magic again.

So I walk around like a storm—
half thunder, half sunrise,
torn between logic that keeps me safe
and longing that keeps me alive.

And maybe one day
they’ll meet in the middle,
call a truce,
and finally let me rest.

But tonight?
They’re still fighting,
and I’m just standing in the crossfire
trying to remember
which part of me
hurts less.