Glass-Thin Love

What its like to be in love with a narcissist

I loved you like sunlight—
open-armed, warm, without question—
while you loved mirrors,
each one a kingdom where only you could reign.

You spoke in constellations
but gave only shadows,
tracing galaxies on my skin
then leaving me to orbit emptiness.

I bent myself into softer shapes,
hoping gentleness might reach you,
hoping you’d see me—
not the reflection you carved from my silence.

Your compliments were petals,
your cruelty the thorns hidden underneath,
and I held the whole rose anyway,
bleeding because I believed beauty meant truth.

You were a hunger that never slowed,
a tide that only took—
and I, foolishly faithful,
kept building sandcastles against your storms.

Now I know love shouldn’t feel
like disappearing in someone else’s spotlight,
and healing begins the moment I turn away
from the glow that only ever burned.

But there was a time—
naïve, bright, breakable—
when I thought I could teach your heart to open.
All I could teach was how mine broke.