i told you i felt like gatsby,
haunted by what was,
dreaming in green light.
but you just smiled,
said i was daisy.
and god, i hated how right you were.

because i do run when things get too real.
i do love in half-formed sentences.
and sometimes i dress the hurt in pretty colors
and call it grace.

but you,
you never asked me to stay frozen in time.
you said we don’t need to rewrite the past
to build something better.
you saw the wreckage,
and still,
you chose me.

maybe i don’t have to be daisy.
maybe you don’t have to be gatsby.
maybe we don’t need tragedy
to make this feel like love.