nahhh, reformat. That felt cheesy.
I’ve walked through fire
in shoes that should have burned to ash,
paper-thin,
just like the promises I believed in.
I’ve loved in shadow,
paid every toll exacted by silence,
by cold hands
and sweet words that cost too much.
I braced for pain
like it was part of breathing.
Then
you came.
Quiet as first light.
Eyes green like something alive,
somewhere I could finally rest.
I touched you
and nothing hurt.
You watched my eyes
like they told you stories.
Not just what I said,
but what I didn’t.
You waited.
Asked if things were okay,
and waited again.
You moved with me,
not ahead.
Not behind.
You noticed the things
that made my hands tremble,
my voice falter,
but you never called them weakness.
I told you
about the storms,
the ones that left me wrecked and wrong
and convinced
I was too much
to be held gently.
But you didn’t flinch.
Didn’t try to fix it.
You just listened.
You touch like a question,
not an assumption.
You ask,
you wait,
you stay.
And I never knew
that love could be
still.
Safe.
Kind.
Real.
Maybe healing starts here,
not loud,
not fast,
just a soft hello,
a hand that opens,
a voice that doesn't push.
You don’t rush the broken parts.
You see the cracks
and love me more,
not less.
I trust slowly
but I trust you.
Because gentle feels like truth.
Because love, in your hands,
feels like something I can believe.
I’ve never known
a love so quiet,
so deep.
So true.
But now I do.
Because of you.