Stubborn Certainty

A crumpled napkin bears my truth,

a half-drawn map of stubborn youth,

each mark a battle, every stain

a monument to my growing pain.

I texted you, my thoughts so bold,

clutching my side of the story, uncontrolled,

yet I feel it twitch, that voice of doubt,

whispering softly, wondering how to shout.

We sat in the café, our coffee cold,

words a wildfire, hot and uncontrolled,

I replay the moments, sharp and flawed,

how can I stand when my feet feel shod?

But still I hold onto my fragile claim,

knowing well how I’m playing a game,

in my heart, I sense the shifting tide,

yet here I stand, unwilling to slide.