I Don’t Feel You Like That

That gut wrenching experience when someone expects more from you than you can give.

I Don’t Feel You Like That

I tried to fold the truth
into softer shapes—
wrap it in maybe,
tie it with almost,
let it sit gently between us
like something that might grow
if I just waited long enough.

But it doesn’t.

You are kind.
You are steady.
You show up with hands full of effort
and eyes full of hope,
and I hate that hope is looking at me
like I’m the answer.

I’m not.

I searched myself for the spark—
that pull,
that quiet electricity
that makes a name feel like a secret
you can’t stop whispering.

It isn’t there.

I don’t want to borrow feelings
just because you’re offering yours.
I don’t want to counterfeit chemistry
to spare us both the ache.

You deserve a love
that leans forward when you walk in,
that lights up at your laugh,
that reaches for your hand
without having to remind itself to.

And I deserve to be honest—
even when honesty feels like
dropping something fragile
between us
and hearing it break.

So if my voice shakes
when I say this,
it’s not because I don’t care—
it’s because I do.

Just not
like that.