Writers Jam

too much like iron bars swelling inside my chest a prison made of abundance a flood that drowns its own reflection my heart became a crowded bookshelf stories stacking higher than the ceiling each sentence toppling, whispering your name each comma pausing only to imagine your smile every word you gave me was both a key and a lock a promise and its betrayal stitched together like candy wrapped in thorns like an umbrella that opened only on sunny days you built me bridges out of sugar and when they melted in the rain i still tried to cross barefoot laughing at the stickiness on my skin pretending sweetness was enough to hold me never enough your silences fell like snow soft, delicate, almost pretty yet they froze the corners of my laughter your absence was a thirst oceans could not quench and still i drank your shadow, tea in a cracked cup the cup leaked, yes but i adored the tiny rivers it left as if even the spilling was a gift love was a double-edged mirror: too much of my face, never enough of yours but i scribbled hearts on the glass anyway pretended you were just hiding behind it playing peek-a-boo with eternity too much like stars burning themselves hollow just to be noticed by the night but oh, how pretty they looked while trying too hard like roses blooming so fiercely they bruised their own petals bumping into each other and blushing at their clumsy devotion i was the garden of excess petals spilling out of my mouth, pollen in my hair you were the gardener of absence watering me with hesitation, trimming me into silence. and yet even your hesitation felt like rain and i spun in it, dizzy like a child who mistakes storms for lullabies too much, my love i was a lantern spilling light into every hallway sometimes tripping over my own glow never enough your footsteps fading centuries between us though i imagined you tiptoeing afraid to wake the sleeping stars maybe that is existence: to choke on bread while craving cake to hold famine and flood in the same fragile ribcage to laugh while bleeding to keep glitter in your pocket even when it cuts your palm i was overflowing too much of longing, too much of giving pouring confetti into your hands even when half of it blew away with the wind never enough for the wound you carried in your name for the crown of shadows you wore unknowingly still, i would have stitched bandages out of rainbows kissed the cracks in your voice drawn constellations on your palms just so you’d never forget you were infinite. because maybe too much isn’t a curse maybe it’s a clumsy parade of fireworks bright, unnecessary but secretly lighting up the whole town and maybe never enough is just another way of saying: i loved you in places where you didn’t even know you existed so if love is contradiction, let it stay heavy and cute: too much laughter tripping over silence never enough closeness to stop me from missing you a garden of chaos blooming a sky stitched with metaphors a heart too small for its own devotion too much of me, never enough of you and somehow that imbalance still feels like poetry wearing a smile too wide for its face