ROMANCE Poem: You Wouldn’t Keep Me If You Could, by Nacim Hassoun

It’s a cave,
and you’re dark and hollow.
I circle the walls,
but there’s no light to swallow.
Just echoes,
and the sound of my own breath
thinning.

I trace the same paths,
bleed the same questions,
until I hit a wall
or worse, a memory.
Then I start you over
like a ritual I never agreed to.

But caves are supposed to end.
A chamber, a crack,
a way out.
And still, I stay
folded,
breaking myself smaller
than you asked for.

How do I leave it
when I know it so well?
Is it still a prison
if I shaped the bars?

I’ve screamed underground
until my throat gave out.
Clawed at stone
until bone showed through.
Is it love,
or a bad vice?

Maybe I don’t want light.
Maybe the dark feels like home
because I know it will stay.

You never held me here.
I just forgot how to open my eyes.