What Doesn’t Kill Me Doesn’t Get to Keep Me

my skin bruises from just being here

from bumping into the world too hard

from holding it in too much

from flinching at the sound of someone loving me

like they actually might mean it

i wake up with new marks on my arms

and no memory of how they got there

sometimes it’s walking too close to a doorframe

sometimes it’s from nothing at all

people stare

like they’re trying to decide if it’s drugs

or drama

and i let them

because explaining it feels worst than the judgement

“no i’m not dying”

“yes i’m sick”

“no it’s not contagious”

“yes i’m scared all the time”

“no you can’t help”

“yes it’s fucking real”

i dodge coughs like they’re bullets

wipe down everything i touch

like it might kill me

because it might

i make excuses

miss events

cancel plans

say i’m tired

when what i mean is

i can’t feel my fucking legs today

and if i get sick from one wrong breath

i might not bounce back this time

this blood’s gone rogue again

cells betraying me behind my back

and all i can do is wait

watch

calculate side-eyes like fucking landmines

and pretend i don’t feel like a timebomb with no label

i wear hoodies in the summer

just so no one sees the purple map across my arms

and things i’m doing this to myself on purpose

but sometimes i wish i was

because at least then i’d have some fucking control

once

someone held me like i was something rare

not fragile

not broken

just mine

and he didn’t ask for a reason

he didn’t flinch at the diagnosis

he didn’t look at me like i was dying

he just leaned in,

kissed the parts of me i didn’t know were still warm

and fucked me like he wanted me to live

and i fucking sent him away

i told him he was ruining my life

when the truth is

he was the only part of it that felt remotely worth keeping

i chose someone else

someone colder

someone who measured love in rules and punishments

and i told the one person who made me feel real

that his love was a threat

and he looked at me

like he knew i’d regret it

and let me do it anyway

i told him to walk

and he did

quiet

dignified

heartbreaking

and it could’ve ended there

but it didn’t

because i saw him again

months later

and i looked him in the eyes

ready to apologize

to bleed in front of him if i had to

and he said

no

he said

you made your choice

he said

i can’t come back to the fire that burned me

and he walked away again

this time

for good

and i deserved it

every fucking second of it

and i still think about the way he used to laugh with his whole body

the way his fingertips never made me flinch

the way he let me exist

without armor

i think about what it could’ve been

if i hadn’t thrown it away like it was nothing

just to be loved by someone

who needed me to cut my own throat

to be held

i wish i could unmake that moment

but regret doesn’t work like that

it just sits there

forever

tasting like blood and memory

but now

now there’s someone else

and no, i don’t say the word

but it hums behind every breath

every time i soften

every time i stay

he’s not loud

he’s not dramatic

he doesn’t sweep in and save me

he just shows up

quiet

constant

the kind of presence that doesn’t need explanation

because it was never asking for one

when i’m spiraling

he’s the only voice that doesn’t make it worse

when i’m disappearing

he’s the only one i still want to reach for

he says something stupid

and i laugh like my chest wasn’t on fire five minutes ago

he brushes past me, and my body doesn’t recoil

it leans in

like it remembers safety

like it might want more

i haven’t told him

what he is to me

because i want this to last

and i’ve learned what happens when you name a thing too early

how even gentle truths can detonate if they come too soon

so i don’t say it

but god

he has to feel it

in the way i reread the last thing he said

like it might steady my hands

in the way i write poems about him

without saying his name

in the way i fight a little harder

because he’s still here

and i want to be too

this time

i’m not fucking it up

this time

i’m not throwing it away

to make someone else more comfortable with my softness

this time

i am staying

right here

in this

in whatever this is

and if he ever looks at me

and sees it too—

then maybe

just maybe

i’ll let myself believe it

and then there’s the others

the ones who held my name in their mouths

like it was something worth praying for

the ones who showed up

even when i stopped returning messages

even when i ghosted because the thought of being loved

felt like too much pressure

they stayed

when i gave them nothing to stay for

and no one talks about how fucking rare that is

to be loved in the middle of your silence

to be forgiven without having to perform the apology first

they saw me bloody and mean and distant

and still said

we’re not going anywhere

they are why i didn’t vanish

why i didn’t walk into traffic

why i didn’t take every bottle in the cabinet

and call it peace

they’re the reason

i still write

still scream

still open my eyes and fucking try

and yeah—

sometimes i still want to disappear

sometimes i stare at the same wall for four hours

and call it coping

sometimes i cry so hard

i taste copper

and tell no one

because i’m tired of being a warning sign

tired of being the one people survive

but this time

i’ve got people who would burn the world

just to keep me warm

so i stay

even when it hurts

even when it’s easier to disappear

even when the body screams

and the mind says fuck it

i stay

because this time

i’m not alone

i already gave everything

to people who never fucking deserved me

i already handed over the softest parts of myself

to a man who measured love in guilt

and a man who didn’t even look back

as he walked into the life i should’ve had

i am not doing that again

this time

i am the one holding the goddamn pen

this time

i am not asking to be chosen

i am choosing me

this blood might be trying to kill me

but it doesn’t get the last word

i am not brave

i am not healed

i am not some fucking warrior on a poster

i’m just someone who’s still here

someone who hurts

and bleeds

and breaks

and still wants to live

even when it’s ugly

even when it’s terrifying

even when the odds are trash

and that

that is enough

what doesn’t kill me

doesn’t get to keep me

i already died once, emotionally

when the people i bled for

left me open on the floor and called it love

and i came back anyway

i came back louder

angrier

softer in the right places

meaner in the ones that needed protection

i came back with fire in my fucking lungs

and knives where the guilt used to be

and you don’t get to take that from me

not this time

not ever

not the disease

not the memory

not the ghost

snot the past

not the silence

not the goddamn statistics

so if you’re listening

if you ever wondered whether i made it

whether i crawled out

whether i stayed

i did

and i’m still fucking here

so let me be clear

i am not done

i am not done

i am not done

and i am not fucking leaving