Wires Crossed

She confuses pity for love,
attention for affection,
intrigue for interest.
Approval feels like appreciation—
wires crossed,
a mouse in a maze for cheese.
Each turn a shock
until he learns to turn away.
Choice was an illusion;
escape, never real.

For her, touch feels like intimacy,
sadness looks like trust,
oversharing passes for care.
Bent past the bend,
she sees the world inverted.
She thought she was an anchor—
steady on the ocean floor—
but she’s a buoy instead,
tethered by the very weight
she mistook for grounding,
bobbing in violet calm,
back and forth
to the rhythm of waves
that command her.

None of this is news,
not to her.
She’s felt it daily,
for years.
The only surprise might be:
girl, I fucking know.